Need -- A Once Upon a Time Tale of Love, Honor, and Regret
by atlonglastlove
Summary: Set in S1-mostly. What happens when a new evil winds up in Storybrooke? Fantasy, romance, angst, family matters, spells, and monsters. All that, rolled up in the big ball of emotional turmoil that is Emma and Regina. Swan Queen.
1. Chapter 1

**EMMA**

Emma's fingers felt for the iPod at her shoulder. She switched off Strayhorn mid-song, with a bit of a flinch—hating to end a favorite so abruptly, but recognizing she was too jacked up to pay attention anyway.

She breathed a bit deeper, glad to hear only the sounds of her feet- thud, thud, thudding - up the dirt path. She was grateful for the curve ahead, leading her deeper into the woods, farther from the feelings she was trying to leave behind.

She wondered if she'd ever run it out, really. This unrelenting, uncontrollable buzz she invariably experienced, each and every time she had a run in with Regina. It was tiring, enraging, and all too predictable anymore, and Emma was done. Done.

_So go._

She gritted her teeth against her own train of thought, as she began making her way up the steepest slope of Mt. Diablo, the dormant volcano at the edge of Storybrooke. She purposefully smacked the tips of her shoes into the ground, seeking firm purchase in the dirt, and pushed. _Just go on. Keep running. _

A sweet, wide-eyed Henry bubbled into her conscience, and a goofy grin instantly replaced the scowl Emma had worn all morning. She knew she loved that kid with every last ounce of her, and she wanted do right by him no matter what—in spite of herself—or Regina.

"Turn around."

Emma nearly stumbled, but her arms instinctively spread to re-establish her balance, as Regina's voice raced through her head before fading away. _What the…?_

She peeked, a quick glance at the iPod again. Off. And was it the Mayor, that… thought? It had that same smoky tenor, but there was something else,… Shaking? Fearful? Certainly not. It was

_nothing. Nothing. Shutup. Run._

Emma kept climbing, climbing. Thud, thud, thud. On most days, she'd have had to stop a few times, but she saw the summit now, just ahead, and marveled at how distracted she must have been— hardly noticed the climb, the reach inside, lungs stretching and grabbing at the oxygen she'd needed to ascend so fast.

At the top, hands resting on her hips, Emma breathed deeply and walked the path around what Henry called the Tree Park. No built structures here, no slides, no swings, no mayor- made extravagance, just hundreds of soaring fir trees, so tall, so perfect, Emma couldn't help but be dazzled. She stopped and closed her eyes and let herself simply connect to her surroundings. God, she'd needed this.

"Turn around. Please!"

Emma's eyes opened again. Wide. Looking about her. But no one was here. No one but her and Henry ever came up here, it seemed. Certainly not Regina – too dusty, too wild. So what the hell WAS that?

_Jesus. Enough with the day-dreaming, Swan. Leave it._

Walking to the edge of the mountain-side, Emma stared down at Storybrooke—it's tidy grid of quiet streets, the simple storefronts reminding Emma of a board game instead of a real town. It often felt strange, almost artificial, Storybrooke. To Emma, the town's bucolic vibe gave her the creeps nearly as often as she felt embraced and serene within its limits. As much as it presented this perfect little hamlet, there was something dark and stifling about the place. Emma chalked up her discomfort to the fact that she'd lived all her life in large, loud, in-your-face cities where you made it or you didn't. Here in Storybrooke, though, people just… were.

Except Regina. Regina was more. Much more.

"_Well, you've once again proved your mettle, Sheriff. Thank God we none of us need an actual Champion around here." Regina snarked, glaring down at Emma, flat on her back and groaning. Regina stepped over her body, offering not even a hand up, and moved to her son. "Go inside, Henry. You can thank Miss Swan later."_

_Emma slowly righted herself. Though she'd fallen from the tree outside the Mayor's mansion, she had at least kept Henry from doing so in an effort to retrieve his backpack. Why his backpack had been flung into the tree in the first place was information Emma hadn't managed to ascertain before Regina drove up and took over. _

"_He was pretty upset when I got here, Regina. You might want to talk to him." Emma offered, dusting herself off._

"_Oh, might I?" Regina stared into Emma's eyes and Emma bristled. Must it ALWAYS be like this? Sighing, she shook her head, turned, and started to move down the walk. _

"_Where are you going?" Regina asked._

"_Away from you." Emma replied quietly, but loud enough to be heard._

"_We aren't done, here, Sheriff." Emma could hear the clipped sharpness in that voice. God, she hated that fucking voice. Not least of all because of the flight of emotions she experienced every time she heard it. Regina's voice regularly sent chills coursing along Emma's skin, made her hair stand on end, and her stomach clench. _

_Emma was honest enough with herself to admit the unwieldy and inconvenient attraction to this impossible creature. While those chills regularly raised Emma's ire, there were times-she shuddered-when those chills made Emma's knees threaten collapse. The attraction might exist, she thought, but she didn't have to like it. And Emma didn't._

"_Henry has his backpack. I'm finished. Have a good night, Madame Mayor." Emma called over her shoulder, ignoring whatever Regina was barking about behind her. Climbing into her cruiser, backing it up, Emma tried hard not to, but couldn't help taking a last look. Regina, the end of the walk, her perfect coif, stately shape, stormy eyes, glaring after her as she drove away_.

Emma's mountain-top meandering had taken her to the far side of the Tree Park, and she stared out at the world beyond Storybrooke. She could hear the cars and the horns, the shouts of teeming cities, the hustle of a hundred pairs of feet on the sidewalks, the vendors, the stink… and all the possibilities for getting good and lost again, where no one would find her, not even sweet Henry—until she wanted to get found. Her frown was back. This time she knew she couldn't shake it off. Didn't want to. Deserve to. She was ashamed at how tempting it was to go. How much a part of her even, relied on this antagonism with Regina to keep her from completely succumbing to the pull of Henry, because Regina wanted her to leave as much as she did. Such a perfect excuse. Henry would, eventually, see that, too.

"EMMA! Help me!"

Emma turned and her feet were running, legs pumping to get her back across the park, down the mountain, back to Storybrooke.

She was sprinting, straight down the face of Mt. Diablo, precarious, navigating the rocks and twigs and uncertain terrain without hesitation, nearly flying, as Regina—undoubtedly Regina—had called to her again, clearly, unmistakably, agonizingly. SOMEhow. Calling her by first name, and with such desperation that Emma didn't stop or think. She ran.


	2. Chapter 2

** Regina**

Regina, much to her dismay, was dumbstruck. And still, Emma and the cruiser pulled away.

"I should have you flayed." She spoke quietly, between clenched teeth, through tightening lips. Dark eyes looked after the car long after it disappeared.

_You… insufferable jackass. _

Regina tried to still her pounding heart through sheer will, and as her chest continued to heave, and nostrils flair, she felt nothing as pronounced as a profound disappointment in herself.

Finally, she unclenched everything, closed her eyes and rolled her head slowly on her shoulders. How disheartening. What Regina had begun to label as "it" was still there. Again. Always again. In anticipation of just such confrontations, in Regina's head, each time, she imagined things would be so very different than they actually proved to be. She convinced herself of her power, her indomitable, regal presence that could not and would not be questioned. She reassured herself that nothing Emma would say would move her. Not this time. Nothing would make her flinch, not twitch, not even breathe. But, no.

_It_ was always there, rising faster than she could stop it, an irritation that made her quake within, and bridle at whatever next words Emma spoke. It didn't remotely matter what those words were. This interloper could recite a recipe for soup and it would summarily draw Regina's hackles to ridiculous heights.

Emma pushed Regina's buttons.

As Regina made her way back into her house, preparing to deal with Henry and whatever ruin this most recent conflict with his regrettable birthmother had wrought, she was equally desperate to ignore that other little niggle-the rest of the "it."

The push, push at her spine, low and tingling. The fact that parts of her… whole, vast, inappropriate parts of her wanted to smile and applaud and laugh with careless glee at the audacity of this bail bondswoman (?!) who had entered her life all hair and teeth and denim and Did. Not. Blink. No matter how Regina threatened, what she invoked, where she looked, invaded, or imposed herself, Emma simply took it, and gave it back on par. Regina's dire promises impacted Emma like crisp browned leaves blowing against a silver shield of steel. It was

_Delicious. Enticing. Thrilling_.

And really fucking irritating.

Regina was beyond done with letting this disaster, this storm named Emma ruin her day. Her month. Her world. She'd figure out how to rid herself of this pest before the week was out. The Festival of Wings was coming. It used to be Henry's favorite holiday. He'd mark the calendar and insist on a daily countdown, sometimes months in advance.

Regina wanted that again, wanted him to share that excitement, about anything, with her, and she had been planning such an extravagant festival, like nothing Storybrooke had ever seen. As Regina shut the front door behind her, she stared up to her son's room. If she was right, he'd already shimmied out the window, and was lumbering along to school, probably flagging down Emma, or Mary Margaret for a ride.

_They_ had changed him. That infernal book had changed him. Emma's very existence had changed him. Regina wanted him back and if she could just get Henry interested again, the festival might just change him once more, back to the son she knew loved her. As least a little.

A knock.

_Who could possibly…_

Regina turned again, and opened the door, irritation and impatience still radiating from her, though it dissipated a touch at the sight of a diminutive man at her doorstep. Not much taller than Leroy, probably. He had thin, red hair, unkempt, his face freckled, his eyes a soft and, frankly unsettling grey. He carried a leather satchel and Regina imagined he'd soon be tongue-tied.

"Yes?"

"Madame Mayor?"

"What is it? Do I know you?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Rudy. Rudy Vega. I'm an attorney. Next to the auto shop?" With each sentence, he appeared to get more nervous, until he squeaked out, "I have an office."

Regina's eyes narrowed and her brows slid together. She knew everyone. Everything. She didn't know him.

"Who ARE you?" Her voice rose in volume and dropped in timbre.

"I'm here…" He swallowed and beads of sweat dusted his lip. "…about the case against Mary Margaret Blanchard."

"What's that?" Regina's eyebrow repositioned themselves, her eyes opened wide. Now. This was different. "What case?"

Rudy Vega leaned in a bit and spoke with discretion. "The complaints, Mayor? They've reached, um, a minimum volume for you to, well, to take action against Miss Blanchard."

"The complain…"

Rudy Vega cleared his slender throat. "Um, yes. I believe you're familiar with…" He awkwardly balanced the satchel on his thigh, opened it and pulled a volume of papers from within. "These complaints on her teaching abilities, her promptness, her availability for conference, her… I believe you wrote them? Yourself. All of them."

Regina smiled. "Yes."

"And the town charter expressly states that you can fire anyone in either public or private employ for being written up this number of… I'm sorry, I have the exact wording in here somewhere…" Rudy Vega transferred the paper stack to his other hand, digging deeper into the satchel for another item. Everything he held appeared precariously close to dropping and scattering forever into the breeze…

"Why don't you come inside?" Regina suggested with a cold grin, fondly remembering that little gem in the charter she'd known would come in handy one day.

"Oh, yes, thank you." Rudy Vega gathered satchel and paper to his chest and stepped over Regina's threshold as the door closed behind him.

Not a single second passed, not a whisper of time, before the satchel he carried gaped wide and from inside a thick, tremendous rush of wind and power exploded against Regina.

SMACK!

The force of impact sent her body clear across the foyer, her back crashing into the far wall in a rain of rage and plaster. As Regina struggled to lift herself up, she fixed a defiant glare on the force before her, and again her body was swept up, this time in a crushing grip, thrashed about with as much effort as a tiger tossing a rag doll, before she was unceremoniously slammed to the floor. She wheezed out,

_fuck _

Her only available weapon, her anger at her own helplessness, against this whatever

_the hell_

propelled her to again try and stare the thing down, but the results were the same, again and again. Regina's mere human form could do nothing to stop this supernatural onslaught, and with each battering of her flesh, the thing seemed to grow larger, rage more violently, until Regina was still, crumpled and bent in a corner.

_oh._

Regina was scared.

And then there was silence.

She heard… nothing. But Regina could see. Her eyes, she knew, were shut against the demon, the monster, the warlock, whatever… her eyes were too beaten to open, and yet, she could see. She could see a white tank top and waves of lush, blonde hair. She saw strong shoulders moving rhythmically in the white, a field of green ahead. She saw long legs climbing, a dirt trail, arms damp with sweat, moving in time. She saw

_Emma. _

"Turn around."

Regina didn't know if she'd spoken aloud. She hadn't wanted to. Emma, of all people. Didn't mean to. What good would it do? Didn't want to re-awaken the demon she could feel was close, now prowling. Was it resting, regenerating, there, between her and her door? It had morphed somehow. She could feel that. Become something dense. Something solid.

Still, Regina saw Emma. She saw everything, as though she was a mere breath behind the woman, could _feel_ Emma, feel her with a startling nearness, feel her softness, the heat rolling out of her warmed muscles, could feel Emma's power sliding onto her, over her. Impossibly, she felt Emma's body and it stirred Regina as deeply, as powerfully as if they were lying entwined, and perfectly, blissfully whole.

Impossibly, though, it was, for Regina was practically in pieces on her foyer floor.

The monster was moving.

_get a fucking grip._

Regina heard a dozen legs dragging along the tiled floor, tried to track the direction of too many threats, too much energy, all of it directed, she guessed, at her unequivocal and brutal destruction.

Through the fear and in spite of the pain of bones she knew were broken, Regina searched for a plan. Or what? Was she, helpless and alone, at the mercy of this unfathomable evil, destined to die right here? Stuck, solitary, pitiful in her 'happy ending?' She tried to open her eyes, and was met with only a disquieting red haze that wrenched a tremulous sob from her throat.

There must be something she could do, someone else who could help, someone who would come for her. Care if she cried out. Henry.

_no. _

There was no one. Not one other soul.

Regina shut her eyes tightly.

_Emma._

Regina recognized the view, from the top of Mt. Diablo. She recognized the canopy of deepest green as she and Emma were gazing upwards together, watching the effortless flight of a hawk before she felt Emma's eyelids shut.

"Turn around. Please!"

Regina heard the breathless urgency in her voice. She was ashamed. She heard the shuffle of the monster, its breath on her cheek.

Regina began to weep.

As the tentacles of the demon wrapped themselves around her, it's hairs and scales scraped away great swaths of skin and Regina bit back the sounds of agony that vibrated in her. She tried to squirm, tried to move, tried to fight.

She saw Emma. Saw the stretch of the horizon in front of them, knew that Emma was looking out, out into the possibility and the promise of leaving Storybrooke forever.

Exactly what Regina had wanted.

The monster squeezed.

"EMMA! Help me!"

**Emma**

The Mayor's mansion looked still and silent. The door shut tight. Emma exited the cruiser, leaving the door hanging open. Quickly she rounded the car and made her way up the walk, gun low, safety off. She tucked herself behind hedges, trees, pillars as she made her way closer, listening intently but hearing nothing except the blood rushing in her ears.

And a small whimper. Far enough from the door.

So Emma kicked the door down.

For several beats she couldn't fathom what met her eyes. While the mansion had been pristine and untouched without, inside it resembled nothing if not the aftermath of a detonation. The stairway was ripped in two, bricks, wood scattered everywhere. Broken glass that had once been Regina's chandelier littered the ground. From what was left of the floor, to what was left of the ceiling, all was charred, dismantled, devastated.

In the back, tucked into a tiny corner,

_Regina_

Emma felt the fear swell in her gut as she saw how badly Regina was hurt. She lowered her gun and took a step forward as movement from the opposite corner caught her eye.

She fired. Six shots at the huge, hoary beast, all legs and teeth and eyes of blazing hate.

Regina whimpered again.

The monster kept coming, the bullets useless. It crouched to leap at Emma.

Emma threw her gun to the ground and crouched, too.

As Emma left the floor, as her body sailed through the air, as she entered the perimeter of space where Regina lay broken, Emma, as simply as you read this, turned into an immense and angry lion. A lion that silently landed on all four feet.

Emma the lion stood between Regina and the monster,

And roared.


	3. Chapter 3

**Emma the Lion**

Emma had but a second, she knew. A mere blink to adjust to the who and to the what she now was. The golden fur that covered her body stood painfully on edge. Her mane, dark red, full and thick, was alert, protecting her muzzle and eyes. Through those eyes, Emma stared back at the monster intent on destroying her…

_mate_

…the word floated unbidden and hung there, in Emma's conscience. She couldn't pay attention to that, for death was staring back at her, the mass of teeth and legs a blur of dark evil, and the sound that fell from the monster shook every wall still standing.

Without turning, Emma the Lion took one last beat to smell Regina. She breathed in the layers of scent of the woman behind her, bleeding out—but still bleeding. With Regina's every heartbeat, the sharp, coppery odor surged in intensity, masking more and more of her normal scents, as more of her essence spilled onto the floor. The smell was visible to Emma. She could see the rolling waves of it, filling the room, and making her huge brown eyes water. So long as that smell pulsed past Emma's sharp senses, Regina was still alive.

The monster that had hurt her would die.

Coiling her every long sinew, her every thick, taut muscle, Emma jumped on her prey. She felt the heady power of her body, and used every ounce of it to undo the form beneath her.

She ripped at the dozen legs, sending chunks of flesh sailing from her claws. She ravaged the body with her teeth and pulled the thing apart, limb by limb, and with every wound, the thing screeched, deafening in the small space, making Emma's ears ring. She stopped for a single moment, shaking her enormous head to clear the reverberating sounds.

The monster wound one tentacle around Emma's back leg, wrenching her off balance and slamming her onto her back. Emma felt the air leave her in a loud "whooof," but she was grace and speed and strength, and as she righted herself, she tore the limb off, and stalked straight at the monster, who was dragging itself backwards, towards far flung pieces of itself that twitched and rolled about on the foyer floor.

Emma understood that the thing was trying to congeal, that if it came again into contact with those lost bits it would rebuild its strength.

_Grrrrrr._

Emma thought, before she let loose with such unexpected, unchecked, and righteous fury, her heart pounding with wildness that she marveled at, how this great beast she had become simply didn't fly apart in its single-minded passion. Emma didn't stop until there was nothing moving beneath her claws, no shifting skin or hair or scales, no tremors of life.

Emma stood on the pile of bloodless detritus and pulled in air, seeking to quiet herself, to listen. How would she know when something heartless was dead?

And she realized that the smell she had anchored herself to, that smell falling in roiling waves off Regina, had dulled.

Emma turned in panic, and crouched low, her lion body preparing for whatever she might find.

Regina was still.

Emma's eyes peered at her, she watched, her ears arched forward to hear any sound, any breath, any beat of heart. Her nose reached out for a sign, sure she was just missing it. Missing something.

She inched closer, closing in on Regina's body. Emma's big lion heart felt like a great boulder, stone cold in her massive chest. Her eyes scanned Regina and tried to focus on something, _any_thing she could do. If she'd had hands, she'd have straightened Regina's bent and broken body, and set her gently down. She'd have massaged her heart until it beat again. She'd have given breath to her, again and forever, for as long as it took.

She'd have opened her vein and fed Regina life.

Emma the Lion sniffed at the immense pool of blood on the floor, tasted some nearest Regina's body to make sure it tasted only of death.

There. There it was. Something still vital, Something alive, yet Emma was disconsolate, for she still had no hands to help, no way to stop the inevitable. Regina was dying.

Emma stood on all four legs, opened her jaw and called to the heavens.

She tried to focus her energy again, to shuffle off the anger and pain and overwhelming sadness that roared within as loudly as without.

She nudged at Regina's body with her nose, snorted and tried to rouse her. She looked at the wound across Regina's stomach, where the monsters rough limbs had torn her open.

Emma touched her broad tongue to Regina's stomach, and drew the flesh back to cover the gaping wound, returning it to where it belonged.

With that single touch, the gap that was killing Regina closed and knit together, and healed with no trace. And the magic spread everywhere in a flash, and before either could even take note of the change, Regina was staring back at Emma the Lion with startled, bright eyes.

Emma breathed out, the warm air rustling dark hair that framed Regina's face, and her gaze. Emma felt such intense relief at the sight of that normally stormy visage—now soft and curious, and amazingly unsurprised to be looking back at a lion—that she had to sit back on her haunches.

Emma tracked Regina, who had begun subtlety taking in her surroundings, her peripheral vision clearly feeding her some strange information. Emma found it difficult to wrench away from the vision of Regina before her—healed, whole,

_beautiful_

Emma the Lion's instincts urged her to make sure they were safe, guarantee there were no other threats. She used her other, acute senses, to reassure herself, and continued to stare at Regina. Her tongue slipped from between her jaws and smoothed over her muzzle.

"Hello?" Regina's eyes were on Emma again, her voice low, calming.

Emma blinked and found herself lying down, head between her front paws. Her relief at Regina's beating heart was succumbing to the impact of the battle she'd just won. She'd won. She sighed.

"Aren't you a surprise," Regina spoke again, the corner of her mouth coming up in a small smile. Emma liked how Regina's voice felt in her ears, cherished the smile at her lips. "Where'd you come from? Hmmm?" Regina reached out an open palm, offering it to Emma.

Emma shifted forward and nosed Regina's palm. She shut her eyes. She breathed in healed Regina, and the sniff of her settled deeply in Emma. Urgently. This is how Regina must always smell. Always.

When Emma the Lion again opened her eyes, she saw something flit over Regina's gaze. A shadow of something understood. A recognition.

"Em..." Regina began, but didn't finish, cutting her own thought short.

A honk outside the mansion door had Emma the Lion springing back, turning fully about with a growl, prepared to shred anything that walked through the door. She moved three long strides away from Regina, when she suddenly felt her whole body shudder, and turn instantly back into human, non-Lion, Emma.

Just like that.


	4. Chapter 4

**EMMA AND REGINA**

Emma stood, but didn't move, though every nerve stung in attention. Her legs ached from her abruptly truncated run, and more, from her abrupt transformations. Her top clung to her with sweat that had nothing to do with her jog up a mountain.

Regina sat, brown eyes wide and filled with something approaching marvel-and perhaps a smattering of amusement.

A long—an, oh, so long—silence extended between them.

Emma looked down to see her gun near her feet, right where she'd chucked it, useless, to the floor. She bent to retrieve it, her hands visibly shaking.

A breath of compassion fell from Regina's gaze, and entered her throat.

"Miss Swan, are you allri…?"

What sounded like a sonic boom from under the house, shook the room with a twist, a jerk, a plunge, and Emma stumbled back into her crouch, fear etched all along her soft features.

She turned as, from Regina's fireplace, a red-tinted cyclone appeared, stretching purposefully into the foyer and drawing all the disconnected, gory bits of the monster into its whirling vortex. As suddenly as it appeared, the cyclone vanished up the chimney, leaving the house utterly vacant of the demon that had so recently terrorized the woman within. Gone was the ravaged flesh. Gone was every speck of its existence. The broken house, though, remained. And Rudy Vega's empty, brown satchel.

"What the…" Emma began.

The door behind her slammed, sucked shut in the vacuum left by the cyclones departure.

"Fuck!?"

"Is it over, do you think?" Regina wondered in Emma's general direction. Regina found that she was feeling particularly… uncomfortable in the other woman's presence.

"What did you do?" Emma's voice was as stern as she could muster, and dabbed with an accusation that even she didn't believe.

"Me? I didn't DO anything." Regina sputtered at that. Just, she thought, as Emma might expect she would.

"No?" Emma's head cocked to the side and she felt her neck muscles stretch painfully from her shoulder. She'd hurt something and, unlike Regina, she hadn't quite healed.

"No."

Regina—Emma knew—wasn't lying.

They didn't speak again for another long while. Regina slowly rose and began surveying the damage, moving in wide circles around Emma, not venturing too close, as though she were in the presence of a wild animal. Or something.

Emma watched her. Still. Silent.

Inside, though, Emma roiled.

Regina began picking up this or that bit of handrail, the vestiges of a glass fixture, a sliver of an ancient vase. Regina's movements finally nudged Emma back into herself and she knew she had to move. She HAD to leave.

"I'm gonna go now." She said and stood.

She couldn't figure out what to do with her hands, hands that had felt massive and powerful moments ago, hands that had so recently been paws. She scrubbed the back of one hand across her mouth, her mouth that had been a muzzle, a muzzle that had torn apart that thing with

_really_

_crazy_

violence.

A muzzle that Regina had held, and caressed.

"Of course." Regina said, straightening herself to her full height, folding her hands sweetly in front of her. No small feat, as she held the better part of a newel post, and the business end of a sconce.

Regina. Poised and collected in mayhem. Emma let her eyes travel the length of her, making sure all of Regina was where were all of Regina should be, and she tried to still her own feet, her weight shifting about haphazardly.

Emma took a deep, deep breath. But, while her unconsciousness had told Emma that doing so would make it bearable to leave this house after everything that had happened, that breath served instead to create an enormous sadness that quickly overwhelmed her.

For Emma had her Lion's nose no longer, and she couldn't locate the scent of Regina alive and whole like she had, and she couldn't make the depth of it flow through her lungs and melt into her muscle, and carry it away with her. Once she hit the other side of that door, it'd be gone, and the thing was?

The thing was…

"I have to go." Emma stomped her foot, surprising them both. She tugged at one of her runners as though it had come half-off—though in truth, it hugged her foot too tightly. "I'll be back. Don't touch anything, else. I need to look for…"

She was bending and using her gun to catch up the strap of the satchel, lifting it high in front of her to take back to the office. Due diligence, she had.

"Evidence, Sheriff?" Regina presented her particularly annoying, 'how-quaint' smile.

Emma's choice to leave instead of trying to dissect what happened was unexpected, and Regina was feeling... Was it lucky?

_Don't blow it. _

Emma turned away, and headed for the door. Regina's voice shifted low, and caught Emma in the back.

"Are you sure this isn't a dream?"

"A dream?" Emma looked at the threshold under her feet, rocked her feet over it to feel its solidness. She remembered Regina's voice, tender as she soothed the Lion before her, her gentle touch, her smile, the moment of understanding… "Maybe. Maybe it is." Emma stepped outside.

Before Regina could shut the door, though, Emma spoke again.

"You called to me."

"Did I?" Regina's glance banked away. Though Emma had her back to her, couldn't even see her, Regina turned her head, felt shy. Uncovered.

"So I came."

The pause before the answer was too long. Too long, before Regina could speak,

"I… That was very kind."

For one, small moment, without hands touching, nor even eyes meeting, Emma knew something about Regina she'd suspected, but never known before.

**Regina **

Regina waited until she heard Emma's cruiser pull away before she stepped delicately around the rubble of her home and shut the door.

And locked it.

_What_ had happened here? Who? Her hands came up, covering her nose, her mouth, as she felt suddenly flush with memories. With fear. Tears glistened and she fretted that she couldn't still them once they started.

The rush of feelings, this weakness.

_Wretched. _

She brought her right hand down, fingers now closed to a fist, and smacked angrily at her own thigh. She'd tamped these thoughts down in front of Emma, she could do it now.

_Emma_

Regina's brow scrunched in a deep furrow. Who had happened here? Why? What power was this? Why was it in Storybrooke? **Her** Storybrooke?! Her chest swelled. And how DARE whoever it was attack HER. They clearly had no idea who they were playing with.

Thank God Henry had indeed snuck out.

_Emma the Lion's nose pressed at her, nudged. _

Regina remembered. The touch, impossibly soft for the huge animal. 'Live,' it had said. 'Please, live.'

Regina wrapped herself up tight and slid down the wall. She spied the corner of the room where she'd lay dying, her body bent, bones smashed, blinded by tears and blood all mixed up, a heap of torn flesh. Over her own sobs and the screech of the monster, she'd heard the door slam open, the gunshots, and then, the roar of a lion.

_Emma_

_The Lionhearted_

Regina smiled. At the truth of it, at Emma, the savior—saving her. Of all people, indeed.

And from every sound, every energy her senses could convey back to her—and from the devastation she'd seen once she'd healed, Emma hadn't just saved her from the monster, Emma had ripped the monster to shreds.

_For threatening you. For hurting you. For you. _

'_Please. Live.'_

Regina tipped her head back, letting it thud lightly against the wall behind her. But how could any of it be explained, or gratitude even be expressed without revealing everything?

Still. It wasn't her magic. It didn't feel like Gold's – and they'd had little to do with one another of late. Regina couldn't think of why he'd be bothering right now. Also, why let Emma save her?

_Emma. _

Regina smiled again, broadly.

_Oh, my dear, the look on your beautiful face when the spell broke. _

Regina frowned.

_Oh, for crying out loud, Regina. _

So much for getting the woman out of her head before the Festival.

Regina stood. She wandered to her study and picked up her phone. Dialed.

"Get me that group of fellows that fixed my gazebo last year, Micheal. I have a little project for them"

**Emma**

They say that when you know a route that you drive well enough, you could drive it while being catatonic without incident.

Emma must have traveled between Mary Margaret's and the Mayor's mansion a few more times than she'd thought.

And while she wasn't exactly catatonic, she really had only one, ineloquent word that raced around in her head—though, granted, in an array of intonations, inflections, enunciations…

_Really? REALLY? really?_

Really.

She parked the cruiser and got out. She walked up to the apartment and shut the door. She tugged off her tank, tangling herself in the cord from her headphones and growling at if before yanking it from the iPod. She heeled off her shoes, took off socks, sweats, underwear, bra.

She didn't stop and examine her body before the mirror. She didn't want to know if, or what, was different or the same. She just wanted a shower,

_Goddamn it. _

The water was hot. She turned it lower. Some part of her not wanting to wash away that strange connection to the beast that had _been_ her. But she was desperate to get under the water, hoping it might stop her mind, stop thinking, stop trying to unravel the events of the day.

The minute the water touched her body, she started to cry. To weep. She was grateful to be alive, but didn't know _how_ it was that she was. That thing, that thing should have ripped her apart like it had Regina, but instead…

Instead.

She breathed herself calm and tried again to let it go. She didn't know how she would, but if she was going to go on, to even just keep her sanity right now, she was going to have to get some control. And soon.

She rolled her shoulders under the warm water, along her neck. She saw through her lion eyes, Regina's eviscerated stomach. She wretched, and spun around in the shower.

_No._

Emma opened her eyes. She saw Regina, standing in her doorway, standing in all her… Regina-ness.

Emma learned something else today. Regina knew a whole lot more about a lot more than she was telling.

That thought was enough to get Emma soaped up, rinsed off and towel-dried. Tugging on some cleanish clothes she headed back, armed with a wet head full of questions she wasn't sure she wanted answered, but she was sure the hell going to ask.

**Regina and Emma **

By the time Emma returned, armed with a few of the actual policing supplies that Regina provided for in the Sheriff Department's budget (other than dartboards and nameplates) there was already a crew of 10 working on rebuilding the entryway of the mansion.

Emma slammed her door as she got out of the cruiser. She was so livid at the sight, she re-opened her door and slammed it again.

Emma mounted the steps and unceremoniously clomped past everyone in her path until she got to Regina's office. She pulled the door open and glared at the woman who was apparently just determined to be her adversary. Regina's eyebrow arched.

"Regina!"

"Careful with that door, Miss Swan." Regina signed a sheet of paper on her desk. "We're still not entirely sure what's escaped unscathed around here."

"I specifically ordered you NOT to touch ANYTHING. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

_Destroying the evidence, silly. _

"Ordered? Hmmn. Well, now, Miss Swan, I can't believe you'd want Henry to see all _that_ when he got home. What could I tell him?" Regina cocked her head. "The truth?"

Emma threw her hands up impossibly high. "You might!" She sat in the chair. "Christ!" Emma rubbed her eyes. She rolled her neck. Flinched.

Regina noticed. She stood.

"I know it's a bit early, but… could you use a drink?" She walked to the sideboard. "You've had quite a day, I think."

"_We've_ had quite similar days, I think." Emma stood, too, and followed her a step, watching as Regina poured two glasses. "And I can't help wonder that while I seem to be flipping completely fucking out, you're just doing Mayor-ey things, and being completely impossible."

Regina smiled widely. A real smile, colored a bit with something new.

Emma felt a blush rise. She took a step back. Regina advanced on her with the two glasses raised.

"Well, Miss Swan, we wouldn't want me to get too unpredictable, would we?"

Regina took another step, closer, entering Emma's space.

When Emma felt that now not UNfamiliar feeling, she held up a… big, claw-heavy, padded paw in Regina's face.

This proved quite affective in getting Regina to stop.

"Don't come any closer." Emma warned.

"Okay." Regina agreed with a steady nod.

Emma took another step back.

Her hand returned to normal.

The two looked across the glasses at each other.

"Maybe you should go sit where you were?" Emma looked at the drink. "You can leave that."


	5. Chapter 5

Emma sat. She sipped the drink. She looked at her hands warily, wondering when the next surprise was due, and what it might be.

"Miss Swan?" Regina spoke softly. She couldn't stop herself from gazing at Emma in wonder. What was this, and why was it continuing?

"I don't what's happening to me," Emma looked crestfallen. "I'm not able to choose. It's just… I'm, I don't have any control. I, I'm…"

"Amazing." Regina was still so quiet. She realized that she could feel a low rumble in the room, something one would never notice or recognize unless you were, well, her.

_That was it! _

What Regina felt after Emma turned back to human form in the foyer, that discomfort. A low hum of magic was channeling through Emma. Like a simmering pot.

"Emma. It's amazing. You're amazing."

The Lion in Emma wanted to purr.

"I don't know what's happening to you." Regina continuing, choosing her words with care, knowing Emma was judging and evaluating the truth of each one. "But it _**is**_ something extraordinary."

"I know." Emma was grateful for this support she felt from Regina, but she was being tugged apart. Part of her stunned, part of her terrified. She gulped, "But I don't know where this is coming from and, I'm scared." She admitted it without thinking. Glancing up quickly, she saw that Regina was just listening, a concerned brow, and those dark eyes taking in her every move. Regina looked able, willing to help. Careful. Even gentle. Emma needed her, she realized. She needed Regina to figure this out. This, for some reason Emma didn't yet understand, was theirs to share.

"But, what about you?" Emma shook her head, disbelieving. " I, God! I haven't even asked…. You've just seemed so together." She stopped and tried again. "Regina, I don't know what you remember. Do you… know what was happening before you saw me? The way I was?"

Regina turned her head and closed her eyes.

"You went through… I hope you don't remember." Emma felt the clutch in her throat, hot cheeks, tears. "I hope you don't." After a pause, "but if you do, you know, you're okay now. You're okay."

Regina wanted to lash out, at Emma for forcing the tears from her eyes that she hastily wiped away. She wanted to rage at the monster who hurt her. She wanted to lift her arm and send them both into oblivion with a twist of her wrist.

And she wanted to cross the expanse that separated her from Emma, crawl onto her lap and hold on.

Regina could do none of these things. But her thoughts, especially the last thought, were out there in the firmament. Regina could see that Emma knew, but didn't judge. She was just listening. Careful. Even gentle. And this, even after she knew everything that had happened, saw every weakness that Regina had revealed. Emma offered compassion in spite of all that. Unconditional, genuine, complete.

That compassion was carved into Emma's gaze, and there was no way to misread the fact that there was something else there too.

"What happened to you and to me," Emma was continuing, "They're connected. I don't know why. But they are." Emma sat taller and cleared her throat. "And the only other thing I can figure out – especially after you handing this over to me" She lifted the glass in her hand. "Is that it happens when we're close."

"We're close?" Regina snapped back. She hadn't expected that.

"I think so. Don't you?" Emma asked, voice laced with confusion.

"Well…" Regina searched, not keen to be held responsible. "Have you been... 'close' to anyone else? What makes you think it's just me?"

Emma hadn't cosidered that. She'd just assumed, but maybe it _wasn't_ only Regina. Had she been in close proximity to anyone else since this started? Maybe the problem was even worse than Emma'd imagined.

"Well, I guess I don't. Yet."

"Maybe it was the circumstances of the moment that have created this… business with you." Regina said, short.

"Perhaps. I mean I knew I had to transform, to save you." Emma reasoned. That made sense. For some reason THAT made complete sense. "You were in danger and I had to."

"**I** do not NEED to be saved, Sheriff. Thank you."

Emma said nothing.

A clock ticked in another room.

"Your silence is deafening." Regina grated.

"Regina," Emma pushed her hair off her forehead in frustration. Her hair, she noted, felt different since the transformation. She'd swear it'd grown fuller. "What the hell do you want me to say?" She stood to pace.

The office door opened.

Henry.

"Emma!" Henry cried and rushed headlong across the room, arms spread wide to embrace her. Emma watched in horror as he approached, not knowing how to stop whatever might happen next.

"Henry! No!" Regina cried, reaching over her desk, reaching to her son, knowing she would be too late. Hoping he was safe.

Hoping her secrets were safe.

And Henry crashed into Emma's body and

Nothing.

Happened.

Except that Henry's two mother's looked at each other with shared relief, and Emma's strong, conventional, human arms pulled the boy close.

"Henry. What are you doing home from school?" Regina's question held a scold, but Emma understood if was more out of concern than anger. He shouldn't be here right now.

"What happened to the house, mom? It was a half-day, don't you remember? I've never seen so many people in here! Why'd you take the staircase down? I liked the other one fine. I need to get in my room. When can I get in my room?"

"Hey, Henry. Take a breath." Emma tipped, poking him on the head.

"Yes, Henry. Emma's right."

Emma turned at the sound of her name. Twice in one day.

"Everything's fine. Termites infected that stairwell, unfortunately. It was a terrible hazard." Emma's stared into her hands as Regina lied to their son.

Rather smoothly.

And though it felt yucky, Regina'd done the right thing.

"Hey, Regina, weren't you gonna suggest that other thing," Emma started, "You know, that Henry could maybe stay a few days at Owen's while this whole mess gets cleaned up." Emma smiled wide, as though she hadn't just put Regina completely on the spot.

Regina's chin rose, ready to blink Emma into another world, had she only the power.

"That's right, Henry." She said, and called him to her with a twitch of her fingers. He left Emma's side, and moved to take Regina's hand.

Regina drew free fingers through the boy's short locks, the love for him impossible to miss. Emma was deeply grateful for a million good qualities that she'd found in this boy during their short relationship—nearly all of which could be chalked up to Regina's parenting. Though strict, she'd raised a smart, caring, honorable child. He was confused about Regina, but, then again, so was Emma.

And, if it weren't for Henry, she'd almost never see _this_ side of Regina.

"I'll talk to Owen's mother as soon as Miss Swan and I are finished. Don't worry. I'll see to it that you have whatever you need from your room." Regina looked quickly at Emma and then back, "Is your book in there?"

Henry nodded, clearly uncertain about why she'd asked.

"I'll make sure to pack it for you then." Regina stood, and wrapped Henry in a hug that he returned quickly before he stepped away. "Now. Why don't you run play a bit in the park, until I work through the details? I don't want you here in all this commotion."

"Okay, mom." He was heading out. "Mom? Can we have a stairway I can slide down?"

"Or a bat pole?" Emma smiled. Regina glared in response. "A bat pole would be good." Emma continued.

"YEAH! Oh my God, a Batman pole would be awesome!"

"I think not." Regina said drolly. "We're not customizing here."

"Okay." Henry shrugged. He exchanged a smile with Emma and was gone.

"So." Regina started.

"So. We could test my theory, if you'd like." Emma said, moving a few steps closer to Regina. A few breaths closer.

"Must we?" Regina asked, all impact of the moments they shared before Henry's appearance were clearly being escorted out.

Emma sighed and looked at Regina sideways.

"You know, you really make it hard to get close to you."

Emma grinned at her joke.

Regina tried to just shake her head with disdain, but Emma wasn't buying it.

"Oh, come on, that was funny!"

Regina didn't need to be a shape shifter to know Emma was near.

"What if I'm right?" Emma asked, her voice lower than Regina remembered it. "I think that would kind of suck."

"Really?" Regina finally looked at her. It was a look that held a startling passion that made Emma nearly trip over her own boots.

Instead Emma stopped her approach. As good as this moment felt, she was still terrified of her body's reaction. She didn't actually intend to press the issue. "Well… yeah!"

Regina noted that Emma'd stopped, not risking the change if it truly related to their proximity.

"Then maybe you should go." Regina clipped.

"Regina."

"I'm not happy Miss Swan. You're making light of a very serious situation in which my life was threatened and my house put in upheaval. Additionally, I didn't in the least appreciate your 'help' in getting Henry packed out of here. I can manage my son without your interference." The return of cold and vengeful Regina was an unexpected and unwelcome treat. Emma stood quietly.

Then turned on her heel and left.

Regina sat and watched the door shut behind Emma. Her eyes closed.

She'd wanted Emma gone and what Regina wanted—as usual—came to pass. But at some point, at some crucial point over the last year, Regina's NEEDS, more importantly, never seemed to come to pass. At some point, the truth of what Regina needed had ceased to be something she'd even acknowledge. Instead, Regina found herself pursuing wants, all of which she got, yet all of which made her unceasingly miserable. And she'd be damned if she could figure out what to do about it.

Regina moved behind her desk and stared out her window. Melancholy drew lines along her face.

My god, how long had she felt so alone?

She didn't want Emma gone. She wanted Emma there. She wanted…

"_And what if I'm in no danger, Emma? What happens then?" Regina advanced, her dark eyes imploring Emma not to move. "Will you still change? Or could you stay? For me? If that was what I needed? For you to stay as you are. Just like this." _

_Regina reached out and her hand fell with a whisper onto Emma's cheek. Her fingers folded, letting her knuckles drag down the long neck, sweep around to the nape, and she finally touched and lifted the hair she had come to yearn after, to pine for, as she saw it as a symbol of Emma herself. Emma's gaze grew sharp with desire. _

Regina snapped clear of her daydream at the distant sound of Emma and her Sheriff's Department cruiser peeling out of her driveway.

_Oh, for god's sake. _

The daydream lingered, though, and Regina stretched her hand toward the window, steadying herself, reaching to her garden for balance.

Emma wasn't even a block down the street. She'd gunned the car as she left, fully intending to roar out of there, but hit the brakes a second later because all she wanted. ALL. Was to go back into that stupid fucking room and tell Regina she quit. She'd won. She couldn't handle a moment more of it. Not one. She'd pack her bag, and take her mixed up chromosomes, bushy hair, and yellow bug, and be gone for good.

But she didn't.

Never had Emma been so indecisive. Not, ironically, since the day she gave Henry up. It was the last time Emma had let herself waffle, teetering torturously between what she wanted and what she needed. Since then, Emma'd committed herself to decisiveness—damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead—refusing to give over to someone else's version of what her life should be.

_Payback, apparently, IS a bitch._

Regina, like she did everything, took that commitment from Emma every chance she had. Oh, Emma put up a good front, but the struggle between want and need and where Regina fit in that spectrum was getting no easier to resolve. This latest ridiculousness, with all the clusterfuck-ey, changing into lions at the drop of a hat crap felt insanely different, yet tragically the same.

For one electric moment in that office, it had seemed like both of them were right where they needed to be for something new to happen. Something…

_Damn it. _

Emma grabbed for the door handle and jerked her car open. She slammed the door shut and tried to ignore the fact that she'd already done **that** today.

She walked quietly up the steps again. Practically saw the executioner's hood waiting at the top.

But what if that wasn't how it played out? What if Regina just needed Emma to do this very thing that she was doing right now? Climbing the stairs. Coming back. Not letting her own pride and fear keep her from doing what she, too needed. Damn the torpedoes.

The door was open and Emma let herself push it wider. Careless. She couldn't let her anger go around slamming doors and not looking back to see they were shut. Couldn't endanger Regina and Henry

The house was as she left it just moments ago. Regina's office door shut.

She knocked and entered and caught Regina in such an unguarded moment she nearly retreated. But she held firm, resolved. Committed.

Regina pulled her hand back from the window and marked Emma's entrance with a look.

"Hey." Emma said.

"Hey." Regina answered, but turned back to her window. The informal tone buoyed Emma forward.

"I didn't mean to make light." Emma was striding toward Regina with purpose. "I'd never want you to feel that. And I, I was trying to help with Henry." She held up her hand to Regina. "But I know you don't need it. He's a great kid. You're a great mom."

Emma stepped, perilously close to where both knew the invisible line seemed to have been drawn that determined the answer to the question: woman or beast.

"Stop." Regina said, and turned to face Emma.

"Okay." Emma said.

_I don't want to._

"I don't want you to turn into a lion right now."

"Okay."

""

""

"I need a little air. I'll just open this." Regina said and unlatched the window.

The flying glass hit Regina full in the face.

She felt the stinging barbs scrape arms, cheeks, forehead, and she was lifted off her feet. The talons of the giant bird that had blown out the window had a single purpose and before either woman knew what had happened, that purpose was well in hand, as the enormous eagle clutched onto Regina's body, flying her over the glass, through the tattered window frame, outside, and up.

Emma reached out, nearly brushing Regina's foot.

Close enough.

And Emma the Lion appeared in Regina's office, launching itself through the shattered window to the garden below.

Emma the Lion, though, wasn't finished, for if a bird has left the ground, a Lion cannot do more than track it with its eyes—on foot—and the eagle that was holding Regina in its clutches had already flown from sight.

So Emma the Lion shivered, head and shoulders quivering with such tremors that any distinct feature was impossible to spot. And when she stopped shaking, the wings on her back and the beak on her face told Emma she'd done something new. No longer only a lion, Emma'd become a gryphon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Emma the Gryphon**

Being a gryphon felt different. For one, Emma missed her Lion's muzzle—it having provided her last memory of contact with Regina. She had liked its heft, and the formidable teeth it had supported. As Gryphon, Emma turned her head and the bulk of her beak felt pretty damned dangerous, deadly. She flexed the long talons where her front paws had been. No trifles, these. The substantial weight of the wings on her back was unexpected, but of course her lion's back, broad and strong, supported the massive structures with ease. It was all only a matter of adjusting. And quickly. The eagle carrying off Regina could drop her, anytime, anywhere.

Emma the Gryphon let her wings unfurl to their full span and oh, this… this was why. She was. With a single step, and one mighty flap, Emma the Gryphon left the earth effortlessly, manhandling the air beneath her, rejecting the gravity that would pull her down. Each flap of the tremendous wings was greater, more powerful than the last, and soon Emma was flying with ridiculous speed, slicing through the sky as though she had done so always. She wanted to roar. And while she missed her mane and yearned—truth be told—to feel the wind tangle it around her, Emma was grateful for her new, eagle eyes. With utter precision, she'd spied her prey within a heartbeat of taking to the air, and wouldn't lose sight again.

The eagle, and Regina, were climbing, thrusting vertically, straight up from the earth, heading directly for the noonday sun. Emma the Gryphon gained on the pair in seconds, worried eagle eyes tracking every twitch of Regina's every muscle. She could see the struggle, the fear, and Regina's unruly expression

_that's my girl_

Emma's bird mouth switched a wee smile.

Regina was screaming at the eagle, trying to loosen its hold around her waist—perhaps not her wisest decision, soaring miles above the ground. Emma, of course, heard every word.

"Let me go, you Beast! What do you think you're doing?!"

Emma the Gryphon overshot the ascending eagle from behind, positioning her body directly above the creature. The eagle, not having heard it's stealthy hunter realized too late that there was nothing to do except run smack into Emma with a surprised _squack_ and a great fluff and clutter of wings.

Emma was ready in case, but the eagle held tight to Regina. In fact, the talons that encircled her abdomen and legs closed tighter, and Regina's distress grew. Whether due to that, the altitude, or the sight of the Gryphon above them, Regina dropped, abruptly, into a faint.

_Regina! _

Emma wanted her to be fighting, too. Fighting for her life.

But, really? Emma had this.

She swooped around to face the eagle, which had shaken off their collision and was staring back with defiance, wings flapping, measuring distance, strength and chances of escape.

_Stupid fucking finch _

Emma drew her wings up and back, flipping her body backwards and coming out of the turn with a forward thrust that sent her straight at the animal. The eagle pulled its talons up, pulled Regina up, ready to use Regina's limp body as a shield, or perhaps hoping it could tangle with Emma's claws. But the bird didn't dare lose its cargo, and our Gryphon countered so that the eagle managed to do nothing but clonk Emma on the head with Regina's legs.

The eagle managed to realize that its smaller size—even carrying Regina, and even though it was the largest eagle Emma had ever seen—could be an advantage. It bobbed swiftly and skittered past Emma, falling into a dive and heading for the nearest solid surface.

Below them, a mountain loomed. The eagle arced towards the cliff face at the top, to a slender ledge. Emma was a beat behind, as the eagle banked, and released Regina's body to the mountain. Emma watched as Regina hit hard and rolled twice before stopping, teetering at the edge of nothing. Then the eagle fluttered there, between Emma and Regina. Waiting. It squacked, opening and closing its long claws.

Emma soared just above, taunting, yearning for her powerful roar and wanting to be rid of this pest, wanting to tend to Regina whom she could see was starting to shift and roll about.

The eagle launched itself at Emma, trying again to lock onto her talons in an age-old aerial offense.

Emma flew up and maneuvered herself in swift, sharp moves, until the ready hooks that made up her front legs were directly above the bird's body. Diving, Emma latched on, one talon wrapping just below the neck, one lower. She squeezed. She felt the animal's panic surge under the feathers, and the thing tried to twist and pitch from her hold, cawing, angry.

Emma raised a back leg, and brought it down with it the full force of unstoppable surety within her. She _would_ save Regina.

Emma's paw broke the neck of the bird, nearly tearing the head from its body with her power.

The lifeless bird fell away with only a faint slap of broken feathers in the wind. Emma watched, suddenly saddened by the creature's demise. All the beings that made up Emma the Gryphon—Emma, the lion, the eagle—they had worked in concert in the battle, but the lines that separated them seemed drawn more sharply in the aftermath.

Emma the Gryphon, though, moved as one to Regina. She opened her talons, flattening them as much as possible against flesh, picking Regina up, one claw high on her back, one behind her legs, and drawing her to Emma's lion-chest tenderly. Emma held her tight, stirred with happiness at the feel of the rise and fall of Regina's steady breathing against her body.

Stepping from the ledge, the flight home was swift, but not without incident. For Regina awoke, snug against Emma. Regina blinked a few times before her eyes, tearing from the cool air, focused and she understood.

It was a singular moment, one of profound trust and contentment, when Regina wrapped her arms about Emma the Gryphon, held on, and sighed.

Emma's rear legs hit the wet grass with a soft squish. She stayed balanced on her hindquarters, folded in her wings and hopped through the busted-up window of the office. With as much grace and as gently as she could, Emma placed Regina on the ground. Regina struggled to sit up as Emma watched. Regina's breathing was labored. She held a hand to her lungs as she tried to draw in a lungful of air. The cuts from the flying glass were crosshatched across her features.

As Regina still fought for air, Emma searched for answers.

Shaking her head and shoulders vigorously, she moved swiftly from Gryphon to Lion. Regina seemed to smile through her quick breaths and held out her hand. Emma tongued Regina's open palm, her cheek, and the magic was passed.

Regina was standing in seconds, restored, breathing deeply and holding her arms wide from her sides, her look of marvel and adoration never leaving Emma's golden gaze.

"That was magnificent!" Regina proclaimed, as she wheeled around and walked several paces away, powered by sheer adrenalin.

When Regina turned back, Emma… just Emma, was sitting on her floor, head down, face obscured by waves of blonde hair.

"Emma?" Regina spoke with uncertainty. "Are you… well?"

Emma was not. Besides muscles at her shoulders ablaze with pain, her face ached, and she was terribly tired. Too, she was absolutely rife with emotions. She wanted to stand and walk to Regina and enfold her and never, ever let her go. Ever. The flood of feelings she'd felt after the last transformation was nothing compared to this. This would subsume her. And once again, she rose to leave. To run. To run as quickly as she could.

"I'm…" Emma managed. She got three steps and had to lean on the table.

"Emma. Let me help you," Regina began, surprising them both. She reached out.

Emma shook her head. "Stop. I can't do that again. I have to go. I have to go!"

"Emma!" Regina sounded panicked. She raced ahead of Emma and stood against the closed doors, blocking them both within. "You're exhausted. Let me do something. Please."

"You can't TOUCH me!" Emma yelled—not an accusation, a warning. And then a soft, shuddering plea. "Please, Regina."

Emma wanted to throw up. She wanted to take an axe and cut her shoulders from her body, could feel the heavy press of the wings, pulling at her frame, shredding her muscles. She wanted her face to feel real and normal again.

Emma _needed_ Regina to come to her and kiss her and thank her and tell her it was all going to be okay, that none of what happened was wasted. She needed Regina to tell her this mattered. She mattered.

And all that Emma needed, was what she wanted most of all.

"Can you… get yourself to the couch?" Regina asked, unsure what she'd do if Emma refused. "Would you lie down?"

Regina shouldn't have worried, for Emma turned and fell onto the cushions with a quiet, uncontained groan and sighed out a long, "Fuuuuuuuckkk."

Regina watched as Emma's eyes closed. How, in this moment, Regina wondered, was Emma so

_radiant_

"I'm getting you some water. I'll leave it on the tabl…" but Regina was talking to herself, for Emma was sound asleep

Hours later, Emma peeled one eyelid open, and saw that Regina was at her desk not far away, paging through what looked to be an ancient book. Regina's lips were moving as she read.

"Am I dead?" Emma asked, sitting slowly up. "You're not yelling at me and my boots have been on your couch."

Regina watched, amused, concerned, as Emma rolled her shoulders and winced.

"I'd like to get some ice on those muscles of yours," Regina stood, sliding the book into her desk drawer. She moved towards the door, heading for the kitchen. "Don't move."

"Not if there was a gazelle in here," Emma thought she spoke to herself.

"You do make rather a strapping lion," Regina spoke from the doorway. "Finally puts all that hair of yours to use."

"Hnh." Emma scoffed, still half asleep. "I could show you some other ways."


	7. Chapter 7

**REGINA**

"Excuse me?" Regina asked, unsure of what she'd heard.

"My hair." Emma was holding a lock of it and smiling. "I'm told it can feel verrrry nice. On the Right. Spot."

"WHAT?" Regina, it seemed, was so shocked at Emma's none too subtle suggestion that she couldn't control her reaction. Neither she nor Emma, in all their dancing around the dynamic between, them had ever been quite so… direct.

"Sorry, Regina." Emma said, wearily. She exhaled loudly. "Ignore me."

Regina knew _that_ was impossible, but she left the room anyway, as quickly as her feet could carry her.

Why was Emma baiting her? And when she'd so recently—once more—proved herself stalwart, undeterred. The very measure of a savior. Were Regina still Queen, she would have been expected to, wanted to, bestow knighthood for the first deeds of heroism, let alone this last. More than that, she herself could no more ignore what had happened than could Emma.

Everything was still so fresh, so painful, and Regina felt all her protestations against Emma returning to mock her. She'd spent months angrily, fearfully trying to keep Emma away, away from her, from Henry, keep the woman off balance. But Emma, when Regina admitted it, was the only thing that brought balance to _her_.

_Emma…_

Regina moved slowly, gathering ice, water, some food. There in the office, she could feel the undercurrent of magic that hummed around Emma. At least she was pretty sure it was magic. Regardless, it was profoundly distracting.

_Emma_

She tasted the name, spoke it silently in her mouth. She did this often, she knew, when no one would see. It had become a kind of mantra. She loved how soft the sound was, how—ironically, as it represented a person who brought such tumult to her life—it calmed her.

And shook her.

Regina leaned on the counter, head low. If Regina was right about what had been happening between them, whatever happiness she might find, would again be wrested from her.

Regina had been able to_ feel_ Emma in her thoughts. _See_ as though through her eyes. Could _speak_ to her without regard to sound or distance. Even Emma was recognizing the substance of it.

Upon her return to the office, Regina stood for a moment in the doorway. Emma was still sitting on the couch, head in her hands. She had somehow gotten her jacket off, but otherwise hadn't moved. She looked so very tired, so still.

_Regina set the tray she carried down. She walked behind Emma and placed gentle hands atop Emma's head. She let fingers course through the long hair, gently massaging the scalp beneath. Emma whimpered quietly, sat back. Regina brought her hands to Emma's strong, sore shoulders, moving under the shirt, rubbing with the lightest touch, leaning over the couch, her breath drifting over Emma's cheek, her nose at Emma's ear. "I love you, Emma."_

Regina startled out of the daydream, nearly dropping the tray she carried. China and silver tinkled in warning.

At the noise, she saw Emma twitch on the couch, but that was all.

"Here we are." Regina tried to sound 'up,' controlled, the picture of calm. "I'll just put these over here. I'd hand them to you, but…"

Emma looked at her and Regina stopped speaking. Emma's gaze traveled over the tray. Ice packs, water, red wine, cheese, fruits, bread. She smiled.

"Thanks."

"If you need something else, you have only to ask." Regina said graciously as she stepped back.

There were a few moments of silence, as Emma rose with a grimace and went to the tray. "No. This is great."

Regina found she could not move. Could only watch from afar. Emma stood at the table, ate a bit, drank a bit. Regina saw the effort as Emma tried to be polite though she looked famished. Emma finally loaded up a plate, took a glass of water and sat back down.

_Regina made a plate carefully sat beside Emma and handed it to her. Emma's eyes filled with untarnished gratitude. Regina's hand swept the hair from Emma's eyes, and she smiled. 'Now, eat,' Regina said as she leaned in and kissed Emma gently._

"Look, Regina." Emma was suddenly, gruffly speaking, leaning to put the plate down. She turned to look at Regina. She was impatient. "Something's happening between YOU and ME. Us. Not ANYbody else. Why? I don't understand, and I don't think you do either, but I'm trying to come up with some reason, some…

"Motive?"

"Yes. Motive. It's a good place to start." Emma scratched her head. "I'm usually pretty good at spotting that stuff."

"So you say."

Emma lifted a brow at Regina's apparent disbelief.

"It so happens that I've been thinking about this too." Regina stated firmly.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes." Regina was moving to her desk. As she neared Emma, both tensed, measuring the distance she was careful to keep between them. When eyes lifted, they met. And held. Regina let herself fall into the bright, light of Emma's unwavering gaze. She found she hated the tired sadness at the edges, unable to push off the clutch of angst that crept across her heart. No, for a moment she let herself fall in, only a moment, until she felt a blush rising to her skin. Hurriedly, she continued to her desk and sat.

"While you were resting, I did a bit of research."

"In that old book you were reading?" Emma asked.

"Book?" Regina asked.

_careful, dammit. careful._

Emma smirked at her response. "It's just lots of folks are using a computer these days."

"Well, of course. I'm not an idiot." Regina snipped, hoping to imply she had as well. "Anyway, I made some notes. _Some_ would say this is more up Henry's alley..." She gave Emma a glare. "Let's see."

Regina removed a yellow legal pad from the leather portfolio on her desk, tilting it enough for Emma to see her handwriting across the pages, the pronounced, underscored words, the exclamation points.

"It was actually very interesting," Regina began.

Emma sat back against the couch.

"I'll bet." Emma said without giving away a thing. "What'd you find out?" She lifted an ice pack and placed it on one shoulder, and sipped carefully from the water. She stretched her long legs out in front of her and seemed to relax.

Regina's glance took her in, grazing down Emma's body for a breath, over her chest and down to her bold, open legged-posture.

_Regina stalked over to Emma, stood before her a moment and smiled at the trusting, beautiful face that waited. Regina lifted herself and settled slowly down, there, into the space between Emma's legs. Regina put her hands along the top of the couch, while Emma's traced up Regina's legs to hold her, low on her hips. Emma tugged her closer. Regina pushed in, and sighed at the warm press of their bodies together. Regina's tongue moved languidly on Emma's clavicle, tasting, teeth nibbling, her own skin alive and singing with sensation…_

Mouth dry, Regina took a sip from her own water. She prayed that Emma hadn't noticed where her eyes had wandered, mind had gone, but from the look on Emma's face, she'd noticed.

For a time, Regina could only stare at her papers, make a feeble show of shuffling things about as she gathered herself.

_You can't touch her. You can't touch her. _

_You_

_Can't_

The large grandfather clock _bonged_, exaggerating the silence between them. When Regina spoke again, her tone was all business.

"From what I was able to gather, we seem to be dealing with two different things, which have… collided." Regina resisted lifting her gaze to gauge Emma's response. If Emma wasn't buying her ignorant-of-all-things-magic act, Regina didn't want to know it. "I appear to have been cursed. Isn't _that _ironic? Surely Henry's evil queen is immune to curses, wouldn't you think?" Regina half-met Emma's eyes, eager to express her incredulity, but quickly went back to the dubious safety of her yellow pad. "You, it seems, have been, oh, what is it called?" She paged through her notes, and then read from the paper. "Enchanted. Um. You're under a 'spell.'"

Emma sat up, and her mouth quirked down.

"Huh." Emma said. "Why?"

"That I don't know."

"Who did it?"

Regina smiled mischievously. "Henry?"

"Not really funny." Emma stood. She started to pace, to prowl the other half of the room. Emma looked like she was constructing buildings there inside her head. Regina could practically hear the hammering, see the pieces being fit carefully together. Regina watched Emma's long strides, and tried not to get lost in them now, not while she needed to make Emma understand basic magic without revealing all her own cards.

"What's the difference?" Emma asked.

"Well," Head back to the papers, Regina knew better. "Curses are dark. Your spell is called a protection spell. It's light. Now, normally a person would invoke it to protect themselves, but for some reason, it makes _you_ protect _me_. Which seems strange." Regina continued to review her notes.

"You're saying I had to be under a spell to do that?" Emma sounded offended. And suspicious.

"No." Regina said slowly, looking up. She recalled well, as she knew Emma did, the night of the fire. Back to the papers she went, "But the _spell_ affords you the ability to take whatever form is necessary to save me."

"Some might label that a curse." Emma cocked her head. Waited.

"Perhaps," Regina couldn't tell how Emma meant that, but was struck by how terrible it felt she might have meant it to hurt. "Curses, though, seem to be… irrefutably undesirable. Or, mine is, anyway." She couldn't stop the catch in her voice, and Emma took a step toward her in concern.

"What is it?"

"From a source that appears to be reputable—if there is such a thing in this business—I'm under something called the Curse of a Dread… Death." The word ate up the oxygen in the room. Regina kept her head down, slowly reading from her papers, "It's a curse reserved for the arrogant." Regina couldn't stop the brow that lifted at that. "With it, I will be pursued, relentlessly, until I die under violent circumstances, or the curse is broken." Regina paused. "Whichever comes first, presumably."

Emma stood silently and stared at Regina.

If only Regina could read her thoughts! If only she could know how this all sounded to someone who had never believed, didn't understand the true power of magic. Had she managed to fool Emma enough? Revealing what Regina had, was a tactical move, needing Emma to know enough, but she still had her own secrets to keep safe.

Regina was under no delusion that Emma was actually operating under any newly cast spell. Instead, she believed that Emma was simply reacting, as savior, to the curse that had befallen _Regina_. She certainly couldn't tell Emma that. Emma hadn't shape-shifted before this, she reasoned, only because no threat to anyone had been dire enough.

And of course, Regina knew much more about exactly how dire this particular curse was, much more than she was ready to share. Not only was the curse designed to place the most arrogant, but also the most evil in mortal danger until their unsavory demise, each time it was foiled, the curse strengthened, and the method of death would grow more gruesome. First flayed and beaten, next, torn slowly apart, one beak-full at a time.

Regina refused to spend time thinking about what would happen next. The curse would succeed unless broken. Period. But it wasn't even this aspect that Regina understood was the cruelest condition of the curse. The Dread Death guaranteed that the one person the afflicted most depended on—and who depended on them—would be utterly unable to interfere.

Regina knew she needed Emma. Yes, even depended on her. She also knew that her need for Emma was about far more than Emma's ability to protect her. Regina had felt nearly ready to express to Emma that she did, in fact, depend upon her, but the events of the last many hours had convinced Regina she mustn't, for obviously Emma didn't need _her_, else she wouldn't have been able to vanquish the instruments of the curse.

No. Regina's hypothesis must be right. Emma was merely operating as savior, indiscriminately, as she would for anyone. For Henry. For Snow. Emma didn't care any more about Regina than she did anyone else. Possibly less. Regina didn't matter.

Still, Regina recognized that the status of Emma as savior represented a big gap in her understanding. Ultimately, how that distinction changed Emma, endangered Emma, or prepared her to deal with Regina's curse, she simply didn't know. Regina had never practiced the white magic that inspired the selfless acts of the valiant. She felt certain that keeping Emma in the dark about her destiny couldn't possibly make a difference, though she was concerned about the toll this latest transformation had taken. But Emma was already looking stronger, and the dark curse _would_ eventually destroy Regina, as planned. Emma, she believed, would simply move on to save others.

"So what do we do to break it?" Emma finally spoke. It was a pointed question, but posed with more gentleness than the last.

Regina smiled with irony, in spite of the emotion that tipped and rolled her insides. "True love." Neither of them breathed for a moment. Regina continued, "That's it. The only thing that can reverse a death curse on the arrogant. Because arrogant people, apparently, are never, truly lovable. Isn't that dastardly?"

The tears that threatened must not fall. Regina's grip on the glass in her hand tightened.

Emma took two long steps forward, falling to a knee by Regina's desk. Regina rolled back in her chair, surprised.

"Then maybe it makes sense," Emma said, excitedly. "I mean, trying to come up with a motive for why US, ultimately, I can only think of one. One possibility." Emma paused, was studying Regina for any sign of impending sarcasm or deflection. Regina listened intently. "Maybe it's got something to do," She breathed out, lowered her head, and shook it, obviously uncertain she was doing the right thing. "with how I feel about you. How much you matter to me."

Regina had heard that expression, about a deer caught in headlights, but she couldn't stop herself from looking like one. To say she was surprised... She let the gratitude flood her eyes, happiness, even, before she stood shakily and looked down at Emma.

"Me?" Regina squeaked out.

Emma laughed gently at Regina's reaction, smiled.

"You." Emma reassured.

"Oh." Regina managed.

"So?" Emma stood up. "What about it?" She was diving in. Regina saw the set of her jaw. "What do I have to do?"

Regina's eyes filled, overflowed with tears. Emma was saying... Could she really have been so wrong? Was _Emma_ right, and did it actually all make terrible sense? Was it possible that Emma couldn't ever save her, not because the dark curse which would destroy Regina was ultimately more powerful than any savior, but because Regina really _did_ matter?

Regina shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself.

"You have to kiss me." Regina's mouth trembled. "But, you can't."


	8. Chapter 8

**EMMA**

"Well, I _could_ kiss you." Emma stated, though, feeling her own cheeks pink up, she opted to speak the statement to her shoes.

"Emma…" Regina sounded giddy. And cautious. A weird combination.

"But, I don't wanna press, I mean, if you're not… Hey!" Emma suddenly realized something. She looked up, "True love? That's…" she cleared her throat, "gotta be mutual, right?"

Regina pressed her lips together, wrapped those arms around herself yet tighter, and nodded almost imperceptibly. Emma, though, saw the muted twinkle in Regina's wary gaze.

Smiling wide, Emma asked in confusion, "And, I can't kiss you _why_…?"

"Because you can't get that close." Regina said, softly. "You'll change if you do."

"Because…?"

"I don't really know. Fortunately, your spell does let you become something that can still save me—at least so far."

"But I can't actually break the curse?"

"So it seems." Regina was shaking her head.

"But somebody _else_ could kiss you?" Emma was not liking the direction this was going.

"No!" Regina had figured something out. "My God, that's the point of it. The person I most **need** can't save me. Of course that's the same person as my true love. So, it's a circle. Someone created an unbreakable curse." Regina looked flabbergasted.

Emma was confused. Her head hurt and she didn't WANT anybody else to kiss Regina. This whole thing was starting to sound like a double negative or mirrors reflecting mirrors, both of which Emma opposed on principal.

"Right." Emma, felt elated and deflated in the same beat—And really out of her element. Regina had admitted to

_wow _

needing Emma for something besides target practice for Olympian-level snark, obfuscating facts, and telegraphing disdain, and since all of those things were what Emma was used to, well, hearing Regina actually

squeak

when Emma told her she cared?

To see her nod in agreement that she… _loved_ Emma?

Only to THEN learn that she can't be with her, can't touch her, and can't save her from certain death.

Well, hell, that'll set a gal back, you know?

Emma sighed through her nose. It was a habit she'd developed when trying to quietly think through strategies, usually while hiding behind a door, down an alley or under a couch with her gun drawn and some miscreant close at hand.

This felt like a good occasion to think quietly, as well, since Regina still looked startled, fearful, ready to run, and willing to escape all the boogey-men and skyrocketing feelings floating through the air, given half the chance. Emma worried that if she looked too long at her, said, 'boo!' in a quiet jest to lighten the mood, Regina would shriek and bolt from the room.

Whoosh.

Unwittingly, Emma's eyes wandered to Regina's lips. Ugh. This, Emma very clearly remembered—was why she always tried to avoid looking at those lips. Ridiculously kissable.

"Well!" Emma felt her frustration level rise. Not so much the sexual kind. More the don't-tell-_me_-what-I-can't-fucking-do kind, which was always invariably followed by an I'll-show-you, you-bastards degree of determination. "I think we should try."

"Emma, you are under a _spell_." Regina was reiterating what she already knew. Why?

"I get that!" Emma said, short.

"When you come close to me," Regina's brows furrowed a bit, as though she wondered if Emma was grasping these concepts. "You Turn. Into. A. Lion."

"Maybe I won't this time. Maybe, now that we've figured out I'm enchanted, we get around that part."

"It won't work that way." Regina said, and then seemed to stop herself.

"How do you know?" Emma was testy. She didn't care.

"Well, I don't _know_, obviously." Regina backtracked.

"Obviously." Emma put her arms at her side, shook them out, as though she were preparing to start a marathon. She looked to Regina to do the same. Regina faced Emma fully, hands at her side. "Okay, um, so be still."

"Still." Regina said with a soupcon of amusement she simply couldn't hide.

"Hey!" Emma barked. "A little faith, here. Your 'savior' is working." She grinned, then winked at Regina. Who looked

found out,

revealed,

utterly vulnerable,

and

blushing?

_Sheesh. _

Emma had to admit that she kinda liked this life-threatening, world-ending, crazy, mixed up lunacy for a second. Then she leaned into Regina, coming at her, lips-first. Not terribly romantic, but this was a mission, not a 'moment.' They'd get to that soon enough—yes, they would.

Once this worked.

And Regina squeaked again, as the face that entered her space became rather more lion and rather less Emma.

Emma pulled back, and back into herself.

"Crap." Emma said. Regina just lifted an eyebrow, and spoke not a word.

"Okay, why does that happen?"

"Because of your…

"Yeah, my spell, my spell. But why?" Emma started her signature pace across the carpet. "You're not in any danger. There's nothing for me to _respond_ to."

_Lies!_

Emma thought, as her eyes dragged down Regina's body before kicking her pacing up a gear.

"But I am. The curse places me in mortal danger. Constantly. Death could come anywhere, anytime." Regina paused. "Unrelenting, remember?"

"Then why isn't something happening to you right now?"

"I don't know."

"But, you've got a gun pointed at you, the safety is off, and a finger's pressing the trigger?"

"Yes." Regina bit her lip. "I think I'm just supposed to be living in abject terror."

Emma walked nearer, tilted her head, her eyes scanning Regina.

"You don't look _that_ terrified."

"Well." Regina's eyes filled with a soft glint, "You are _right_ here." Regina's hand touched the desk they both stood behind. "Ready to keep me safe."

Emma, too, placed her fingers on the other end of the polished tabletop. While not actually touching, the act connected them. Emma pouted. She let out a whimper.

The smile Regina awarded her assured Emma that Regina understood what she wanted, and practically knocked Emma off her feet.

To her knees.

God! how Emma wanted to properly express the feelings that were smashing into onto up and over her, blowing up everything that had come before and making her understand that she had actually come to Storybrooke not just for Henry. For something else.

She'd come for Regina.

Wow. Emma might have said aloud, since Regina smiled with a bit of a sultry hitch that made the whole damn situation worse.

"What if you can't see me? Or I can't see you?" Emma tried. "Close your eyes."

"Emma…" Regina started to protest.

"Close." Emma replied, miming the act with her fingers.

Regina grinned, but closed her eyes. "Aye, aye."

Emma stepped up and leaned in again. She tried to approach Regina from different angles, at different speeds. She closed her own eyes, stood on her toes, moved around behind Regina, but each time Emma got too close, passed the invisible threshold, the result was the same-the air that fell on Regina's neck came from a muzzle, the hand that reached out, a paw. Finally, Emma the Lion growled low, angry, before pulling back out of Regina's radius and Emma came back into her body.

"Damn, damn, damn!" Emma stomped a foot. She wanted to stomp both. "This is extremely **wrong**."

_How the hell did they get here? Henry, and Regina. _

Both obviously knew more than Emma had wanted to admit about something. Still, that knowledge really didn't help in the here and now.

"If it helps, I love that you tried." Regina spoke at Emma's back. It was the nicest thing she'd ever said to Emma.

Emma turned and their eyes met. Emma could feel the deep pull between them, the desire from them both to just, _touch_, already. To begin to explore these shared feelings, to find a new balance, a rhythm, together.

"How about _Lion_ me? Can he kiss you?" Emma, it seemed, was desperate.

"Well, I don't think so." Regina said quietly. "He's you, obviously, but not… **you**, obviously. I think that's the jist of your whole spell. Your essence is being buried in the beast. Otherwise you couldn't help me at all."

"Well, if I can't fix it before it happens again, we need to figure out how that trigger's gonna get pulled, and stop it." Emma reasoned. "Maybe there's a pattern. What happened before the first time?"

Regina wandered away and seemed to stare into her garden. She looked trapped.

"There was a knock at the door, and an odd little man was there, holding that valise you took as evidence. He wormed his way inside, and..."

"You let him in?"

"I was stupid." Emma saw Regina's embarrassment about whatever made her do that. "Then this whole affair started. Immediately," Regina looked back at Emma. "You saw what happened the second time."

"You opened the window." Emma nodded to herself. "So you have to _let_ it in? It's like a vampire?"

Regina smirked at that. Emma watched her, felt a tug in her gut, wanted to run her fingers over that mouth. Kiss that delicious smirk right off.

"Maybe."

"So, we keep you from playing hostess," Emma grinned. "That shouldn't be too hard." Regina raised brows said everything. "I'm just gonna have to take your open house sign down, keep you from baking any more brownies." Emma saw fear creeping into those brown eyes. She stepped closer but

_Fuck!_

Had to stop before she got too close.

"I'm sorry. I won't joke anymore if you want, okay? It just... I do it when I'm nervous." Regina drew a hand through her hair, something Emma'd only seen once before—over Henry. So coifed and poised, Regina was feeling the strain. "Listen," Emma continued. "Henry's all set. I don't think it'd matter if I locked us up in a cell or whatever, so we might as well stay here. I'm gonna call Mary Margaret, let her know I'm not coming back tonight."

While Regina's expression was mostly grateful, Emma wished with everything in her that she could caress the sadness from that face.

_That face. _

"You don't have to.."

"You're kidding, right?" Emma asked kindly. She smiled. "I'm not going anywhere, Regina, okay?"

Regina nodded, staring at her as though she was allowing herself to see Emma, really see her and all that she could be, for the very first time.

Emma reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She made her excuses to Mary Margaret as she watched Regina cross the room, pick the tray up and make her way out to the kitchen. Emma followed close behind.

"You can't sleep on the floor. I won't have it." Regina was being insistent, setting her lips in a line.

"Well, as much as I don't like it, we can't sleep that close together in the same bed." Emma shrugged, "Besides, I've had my rest tonight. It's your turn."

Regina fumed.

"Tell you what? Let me move the couch closer, okay? I just want to be as close as I need to be."

And Emma pushed the couch in Regina's bedroom across the floor.

And Regina didn't realize how tired she was until she lay down, full-clothed, on her bed.

And both of them—in spite of the worry and the fear of what might await them, happily embraced the improbable sense of calm relief that this simple act of being quietly together realized.

As soon as Regina's breathing evened out, Emma climbed onto the bed and let herself change. With her lion's nose she inhaled the sweet sharp musk of Regina deep into her lungs.

Emma the Lion lay her big head down, and waited.


	9. Chapter 9

**REGINA AND EMMA**

The first thing Emma felt was the touch to her lip.

The tip of a finger.

A soft tap.

A slllliiiiide over the pale pink skin.

On the return, the shape of her mouth was being drawn

The side of a thumb.

She heard a breath, pulled in, released with a tremble. Feathery tendrils of air reached Emma's cheek.

Regina.

She was right there.

Right on the other side of Emma's closed eyes.

Emma felt her body quake.

"Can you hear me?"

Emma nodded slowly. Even the thrum of blood racing through her ears couldn't shut out the low husk of Regina's voice.

Her voice.

"Don't open your eyes." A pause. "I can't do this if you open your eyes."

At her ear. Close. So close.

"I woke up, couldn't get back to sleep."

Regina's hair was falling onto Emma's face, tickling, tingling. It smelled like warm cinnamon.

Regina was beside her now, head resting on Emma's shoulder. "I don't want to die, Emma." Emma pulled her closer, pulling Regina in until she filled every nook, every curve of Emma that had been missing her forever, without ever knowing, wanting without seeing, needing.

Needing.

Needing.

Emma had an image of Regina. It was burned in her memories. Recently. Before. Regina, curling her own arms about herself, as though she could keep all the demons and the anger and the pain inside. As though that would be a good thing to do. As though it was the only thing to do.

Emma had seen the pain break through, had seen the demons. Emma had seen everything. And was still here. Regina felt the form against her. Strong shoulders, arms, hands. The breast beneath the cloth, though, drawing Regina's eyes, and her touch. She let the back of her hand move from Emma's shoulders down, over the slope of her, feeling a nipple through the shirt, the rise and swell, and the thundering heart beneath.

"I want to run away with you."

Regina's arms. One wrapping under, one over, shifting Regina's body atop Emma's chest, a chest which labored to breathe. To inhale, to exhale, when senses were flooded, mind and heart cracked wide open. So much to drink in, Emma didn't know where to start.

"But I don't want to go anywhere." Regina came up on her knees, using Emma's stomach to steady herself as she straddled.

"I want to stay right here." Regina drew both her hands languidly up the length of Emma's body and a rush of warmth marked Emma's torso. Regina relished the deep groan of reply, the cant of the slim hips beneath hers.

"I want to do everything with you. That's what it is, isn't it? That's love? To do everything. I can't quite remember."

"I think so." Emma spoke, hardly recognizing her own voice in the moment.

And then Regina was still.

Emma waited, silent.

Regina collapsed on top of her, burrowing in, clutching at Emma to enfold her once more.

"Shhhh." Emma willed her arms strong, her touch sure, that Regina would feel every ounce of peace she had to give. "Shhhh," she whispered into the cinnamon and held on.

"Emma. I… Can you love me? Can you? So much. There is so much I wish I could change." Regina was growing more distraught by the word. Emma held tighter. "Things I've done…"

"What matters is what we do now, Regina," Emma spoke softly. "Right now. What do we choose?" She soothed and calmed Regina, a startled colt. Long strokes down her back, gentle caresses on her head.

"Be worthy of Henry's trust." Damp words were painting on Emma's neck, Regina was crying. "Be worth saving." Regina's body shuddered involuntarily and Emma felt beside her for a blanket. She opened it and drew it around them. "Not spend my last night away from him. And unable to touch you. Show you."

"It's not your last night, Regina." Emma assured, "We won't let it be." She squirmed. "Let me open my eyes, okay?"

"Not yet." Regina sniffled, a sad smile in her voice. "I'm vain, you know… to have you see me like this."

"It doesn't matter." And Emma opened her eyes.

Emma was still a lion lounging across Regina's bed. Nearby, Regina was sleeping quietly under the covers.

Emma's big black nose twitched. She rested her head on the still-folded blanket.

Regina sniffled.


	10. Chapter 10

**HENRY**

Henry waved to the car as it retreated, and made his way up the walk to his house.

His legs stretched up the steps, his pack feeling heavy on his back. He shifted it off his shoulder, setting it on the top step. It tipped over and his lunch sack tumbled out and fell into a planter.

It'd been a good sleepover—as all sleepovers are—but Henry was tired. (A fact he'd never admit of course.) He and Owen had stayed up well after lights out and played a new video game. It had been a bit violent for Henry's taste, and the monsters had all been a little scary. Mom would have never let him play it. Owen was a year older, though, and Henry'd put on his bravest face and barreled through.

Retrieving his lunch bag from the dirt and gathering up his pack, Henry stepped to the door and turned the knob. Locked.

_Weird_

He stepped to the side and looked in. Most of the construction looked almost done, but the stairs looked funny, and there didn't seem to be anything happening. Where was everyone? Mom's car was here. Emma's cruiser was parked on the street. He wanted to see her. Wanted, honestly, to see them both.

For a second, Henry contemplated a walk around back to try the patio, but that seemed too long.

He knocked.

**REGINA**

She opened her eyes to movement and a distant noise. Emma was sitting on the couch at the side of Regina's bed, straightening her clothes, running her fingers through

_that hair_

In an attempt to shuffle off the night's disarray.

Emma smiled at her and Regina felt herself fill suddenly to bursting with gratitude and

_love. _

"Good morning." Emma's voice was lower, gravelly when she woke. Regina liked knowing that. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Mhmmn." Regina didn't trust herself to say anything. Her memories of the night included a series of images, of conversation, of connection that she couldn't identify as either dream or reality. She remembered distinctly, though, being astride Emma, her own body reacting to the proximity, running her hand over a full breast…

"I had a really… interesting… dream…" Emma was saying, her hands resting on her knees, those

_extraordinary _

eyes—bright blue, deep green, changing it seemed with mood and situation, but always clear and true—searching Regina for response.

The pull to go to Emma was nearly unbearable. Regina crossed unsteadily to the full-length mirror in her room. There, she tucked in her shirt, gave her hair a once-over and patted at her face which she thought appeared puffy and tired. She looked behind her at the reflection of the woman who had taken residence in her every thought.

_Can you hear me?_

She remembered asking. She remembered, and she knew if hadn't entirely been a dream. She knew she'd said things, done things. She bowed her head.

"Me, too." She admitted.

Emma stood up and stepped closer behind her.

"Regina…"

Another noise. A knock.

At the front door.

**EMMA**

Emma felt her body flinch to high alert. Whatever was at the door, wasn't coming in. Not this time.

She shot Regina a look to stay put before taking the still unfinished stairs three at time.

When she reached the bottom, she could feel that Regina had moved out onto the landing above.

_stubborn woman._

"Yeah?" Emma called at the door.

"Hey, Emma! It's me!" Henry's little, sibilant-tinged voice sounded through the thick wood. Emma's mouth quirked in a smile.

"Henry!" Now Regina was hurrying down the precarious steps. Emma held out her hand to help her over the last piece. Regina reached to her.

And Emma remembered.

"Sorry." She said, and pulled her hand and body back, watching Regina maneuver the last steps on her own.

Regina gave a sympathetic glance, before she opened the front door wide and fell to a knee to bring Henry in for a hug.

"Mom!" Henry protested at the unexpected clinch, though Emma saw him hug back a little, a small act, which made Emma's heart light.

"I missed you, Henry." Regina was saying, even as Henry was squirming away to give Emma a hug, too.

"Me, too, buddy." Emma said, bringing him close and catching Regina's warm glance over the embrace.

"Owen's mom said I could come back if you needed later, but can I stay here for awhile? What're you guys doing? Together?"

Henry's innocent question was so much more loaded than he could have ever imagined. Emma wasn't sure how to answer, if she should. She looked to Regina who was helping their son shrug off his backpack.

"We are not doing anything until you get out of those dirty clothes and into a shower." Regina pulled the dusty lunch bag from the pack.

Emma's body prickled with an uncomfortable heat.

_what the hell?_

"What happened to this?" Regina asked, holding the dirty sack gingerly between two long fingers.

"I dropped it." Henry confessed.

"Do try to take care of your things, will you, Henry?" Regina looked at him with correction and kindness. She quirked a brow and motioned upstairs with her head. "Now go get cleaned up."

Emma watched as Regina crossed into the kitchen with the offending article, setting it on the counter by the sink. She stepped to the refrigerator and starting pulling out items for breakfast.

The prickling sensation in Emma's body began to ebb. Maybe it was nothing.

_maybe_

Henry started to move off.

"Have Emma help you up the steps.," Regina called. "They're dangerous yet."

Henry nodded, but his face held a look of surprise.

Emma approached and he took her offered hand.

"Emma!" He whispered, plenty loud for all to hear. " Mom's calling you, 'Emma!'"

"So she is, Henry." Emma looked over her shoulder. Regina, too had heard Henry's comment and her answering gaze was blatant, awash with feelings that had heretofore only been expressed in dreams.

The Mayor of Storybrooke may yet be the end of her, but Emma was more than willing to see their story through.

**REGINA**

The breakfast was ready, but the pair upstairs hadn't returned. Emma had no doubt been roped into a Henry stall tactic to avoid his shower.

Stopping her always-purposeful motion for a moment, Regina allowed a thought to surface. Such a thought it was, too.

_This could be 'morning.' This. Morning._

It wasn't really possible to ignore the allure of sharing her life with Emma, and Regina found herself unexpectedly unwilling to even try. She'd admitted she loved her. She'd realized how much she relied upon her. She loved the dynamics between them. The challenge, the surety of conflicts that Regina realized had a strong foundation in respect and a genuine determine of each hoping to understand the other. Emma had said it didn't matter. The past.

_if it really didn't? if I could start again?_

Regina shook from her reverie, hearing the sound of running water and Emma upstairs, singing, rather loudly, something about 'workin' at the car wash, yeah!' Regina's smile was unbidden and unsquelched. It felt good.

She moved to the sink and started on Henry's dirty lunch bag, her mouth curling with disgust at the state of the thing, muddy and squished. Reaching inside, she felt a poke on her finger.

"Ow!" She said, pressing the finger to her mouth and sucking to soothe the sting. A single drop of blood appeared at the tip.

Regina felt a wave hit her. She felt nauseous, unbalanced. She braced her hands on the counter and steadied herself with a deep breath.

"What in the world?" Reaching for the bag, Regina looked in and saw a fork poking up at her. "Henry…" she murmured with a shake of her head, and dumped the contents of the bag into the sink.

There was no rattle of a metal fork against the porcelain, but Regina didn't notice.

She was too pre-occupied fainting, to the cold of the tiled floor.

Emma, once more found herself racing down steps, seconds after the strange thud from the kitchen had reached her ears. She knew something was not right. Not since the second Henry had walked inside. Some energy had shifted in the house.

_Why did you leave Regina alone? Goddamit!_

As she raced around the corner and entered the quiet kitchen, Emma's body fluttered and shifted and Emma the Lion stood at Regina's side. As the sight of Regina again incapacitated, Emma growled low in her throat, felt the anger fill her muscles, making her fur bristle. The Lion wanted to roar with rage, but what was left of Emma within remembered Henry upstairs, and that addressing the problem at hand had to take precedence over grief, guilt or fury at this having happened once more—and on her watch.

Emma's vast Lion eyes did a physical inventory of Regina. Everything looked the same—nothing looked broken, no blood, no visible wound, Regina's breathing was even, predictable.

But.

Something was very wrong with the smell that reached Emma's Lion nose. Instead of being met with a waft of intoxicating, tangy, vibrant heat that Emma had come to categorize as Regina's individual scent, there was instead a dull, sourness that oozed slowly out of the body before her. The smell set Emma back, turning her stomach, as she tried to discern the odor.

Emma the Lion used her muzzle and paws to straighten out Regina's bent limbs, her legs, arms, and spied a single drop of blood at the tip of one finger, as though it had been pricked by a thorn. There, the wretched odor was at its peak. There, something terrible had found its way inside Regina.

Emma tore herself from Regina's side to seek out the source of the wound, smelling all around the kitchen, her Lion's nose finding nothing unusual, nothing unanticipated within the embedded scents of home-cooked dinners, spices, composting vegetables, and apples, apples, apples. Rising up on her back legs, Emma the Lion peered into the sink and took up the discarded lunch bag.

_this fucking thing. _

Lifting it in her teeth, Emma shook her head carefully, dislodging whatever was to blame for the unexplained weight inside what had appeared to be an empty bag.

The worm was long. Five or six inches. Its grey color was off, as though it had been living amongst fungus and wetness, out of the sun, putrefying. As it slithered down the drain of Regina's kitchen, Emma the Lion would swear that it turned its head, looked directly at her, and hissed with a serpent's fangs before disappearing forever…

A huge paw batted at the bottom of the sink, trying to capture the creature before it slipped away. Failing that, the Lion in Emma swatted in fury at the lunch bag, at the dishes on the counter, at the jars of rice and coffee, sending everything flying before they came crashing back down. The noise was cacophonous for a moment, before all became silence again, apart from the whirl of a lid that spun briefly on the floor before coming to a stop.

The Lion breathed out a deep, shuddering breath and turned back to Regina.

Doing the only other thing she could think of, Emma the Lion licked the face that gave her purpose, the face that she needed to brighten, that had eyes she needed to see.

"Mom? Emma?" Henry was calling from upstairs. Emma the Lion stepped nearly to the threshold of the kitchen in order to shift back to herself. "Is everything okay?"

"It's okay, kid," Emma started, "I just dropped something. Finish whatever you're doing."

Emma heard Henry padding away, the sounds of feet still wet from the shower moving over the floorboards above. Emma's Lion senses were yet acute, and her heart felt it would beat clear from her chest when she saw Regina stirring halfway across the room.

"Regina?" Emma called to her in a loud whisper, yearning to run in, hold her, and help her up. "Regina?!"

"What happened?" Regina was sitting up, a hand moving to the back of her head where she'd struck it on the tile. She looked flustered but otherwise herself. She took in the state of the kitchen, the evidence of the Lion's temper. "Emma?"

"I'm here." Emma called, her hands gripping the back of the stool so tightly that the wood was forced to bend if it didn't wish to break. How could she stand here, useless when Regina needed her? The whole situation infuriated Emma and she struggled to collect herself, to clear her head enough to think. "You gotta put some ice on that bump, sweetheart."

The word was out of Emma's mouth with no hope of returning it.

And Emma couldn't give a fuck.

Regina looked to Emma with a warm smile, her brown eyes impossibly soft, and Emma felt herself color.

Righting herself, using both hands to help her to stand, blood smudged on the floor, and Regina wiped her finger on her pants without thinking.

"Whatever that was, Regina, whatever made your finger bleed?" Emma rushed out. She didn't know how much time she would have before Henry appeared or something else happened. She knew from the strange tingles that continued to course through her body that SOMEthing was coming. She just didn't know what. "It did something to you. There was a… worm or something… in the lunch bag. I think it stung you. I think it put something bad, under your skin."

"Bad?" Regina asked, scared and curious, trying to make sense of it all.

"I can.. smell things," Emma answered. "It's not good. Whatever it is. I think we should take you to the hospital."

Regina grinned, running water over the tip of her finger. She telegraphed utter normalcy, though she stared strangely at the finger.

"Hospital?" She shook her head. "Goodness, no. I feel fine. Just this finger." She looked at Emma with a quirk of her head. "I mean it feels perfectly well, so I don't get see how this is possible really."

"How what's possible?" Emma didn't understand.

"Well, I mean," Regina pointed the finger at her, pointed it up in the air. "Why is it black?"

"Black?" Emma felt the warning, the dread crawl up her spine. "Regina, it's not black."

Regina laughed. There was a strange sound to it. She walked to the knife block on the counter.

"Emma! Just look at the thing. Black. Like an awful, rotten green bean." Regina pulled a cleaver from the block. "I can take care of it." She raised the blade high.

Emma ran and leapt and the Lion took the brunt of the blow on her arm before knocking the cleaver from Regina's hand to the floor with a bracing clatter.


	11. Chapter 11

**EMMA AND REGINA**

With the momentum of her leap, Emma the Lion found herself banking off, rolling away from the kitchen counter to the floor below. Her bleeding foreleg was forced for a moment under the bulk of her Lion weight, pressed, before she bounded upright again, graceful and alert on all four paws.

Taking advantage of Regina's temporary confusion, Emma pounced, knocking Regina to the ground, pinning her to the floor as gently as a full-size lion can do so to a full-size human.

Regina 'oof!'ed and the Lion above her shook it's great hairy head with a clear message:

_No._

Why had she been interrupted? Regina wanted to understand what was happening, but her mind couldn't fix on any solid line of thought – except for one.

_Cut it off. Cut it off. Off. Off. Off._

There she'd been, taking care of the thing she must, removing the diseased finger from her hand. It would have been quick and clean. Practically nothing at all. Just as she'd brought the cleaver down, though, that hard, furry body had thudded into her, forcing the blade into flesh not her own and sending the implement flying from her grasp. Before she had a chance to find another tool for the job, she'd been assaulted again, her back making contact with the floor, her hands no longer under her control—covered as they still were by huge paws. The claws, she noted were retracted, else she'd have tried to squirm that pesky black digit beneath one and be finally done with her task.

She struggled, angered now at the interruption of her critical activity.

Regina had no hope she could actually dislodge the Lion, but damn if she wouldn't try.

**Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiick…..**

The long, wide, thick, Emma the Lion tongue covered her face in a sloppy mess, and Regina sputtered, and she pinched her eyes shut, and she pursed her lips, and she grimaced at the affront

And Regina's head grew clear.

She opened her eyes, and found herself staring into a gaze that shared no physical resemblance whatsoever to Emma Swan. Yet. The wary hopefulness, that ever-present belief in goodness, in possibility—_emotions_ that had come to define 'Emma's eyes'—were returning Regina's stare.

Big, saucery orbs looked back at her, beseeching, pleading.

_be okay. please be okay._

"I know you wanted to kiss me, Miss Swan, but really…" Regina smiled, longing to convey the warmth she felt for Emma, in whatever unexpected incarnation her,

_dare she say?_

partner

might appear.

Emma the Lion lifted one paw, allowing Regina to raise the hand she'd been ready to mutilate just seconds before.

Emma tracked every movement as Regina touched the hand to her face, wiping away the remaining slobber. The view of her own hand, however, stopped Regina cold.

Each muscle in Emma the Lion tensed.

"Oh, my God." Regina gasped. "What happened? Did I…?" She struggled to lift her other hand, to see it. Emma let her. Seeing both her hands were intact, Regina let out a sigh of relief, before, "I was going to chop my finger off."

Emma conveyed affirmation in her silent look.

After a beat, Regina smiled again, "So you saved me, again, hmmn?"

Emma purred quietly.

"Let me up, pet," Regina said with such gentleness that Emma pushed the top of her head at Regina, wanting to nuzzle against her. Regina laughed with a lightness that filled a space so recently echoing fear.

Emma sat back on her haunches, watching, expectant.

Blood was staining Lion fur, dripping onto white tile. Regina's face went pale.

"But you're hurt." Regina was on her knees at Emma's side, parting the fur along the limb, trying to locate the wound. "Oh, I did this. Oh, Emma…"

A first aid kit was tugged out from under the kitchen sink. Emma sat as still as she could as Regina poked and prodded at her. As much as Regina's comforting presence and the sight of her acting like herself should have calmed her, Emma was still deeply unsettled. Her lion self was having difficulty grasping the events of the past few moments, but the most distressing thing of all was that the altered smell of Regina was still present. The _grey_ of it was still cloying, meaty, nearly visible as it moved through Regina's veins, under her skin.

Regina was cleaning the wound, applying a compress, pressure, her lips murmuring mostly soundlessly. Emma the Lion knew the gentle words were meant to heal and she tried not to think about the smell that made her want to turn away.

Emma watched as Regina surveyed the damage, the damage she had caused, and her strong jaw set.

Emma nudged at her, pushing into Regina

_it's okay_

"No, it's not." Regina answered aloud, her head shaking. "It's absolutely not."

Had they not been in such close proximity, the quiver along Regina's carotid artery might have gone unnoticed, but Emma saw it clearly, blinked at it, and her body sprang again to alertness, as Regina

devolved before her.

"Oh, no, no, no, Regina. This won't do. Not at all." Regina spoke to herself, crossing abruptly away from Emma who followed right on her heels.

Regina spoke to herself, or so she imagined. She moved quickly to get herself in front of the large mirror that hung in her dining room. She saw her reflection, and in that reflection saw the crawl of the red and black insects that crisscrossed her face, scurried into her hair with their tiny, dirty legs.

"Ridiculous. Hideous," Regina began pulling at her face, her hair, trying to pull fistfuls of the creatures from her features, scrubbing at her ears with the sharpest of fingernails. "Wretched vermin!"

Again, Emma tackled her, this time driving her backwards, back, onto thick pile carpet beneath them.

Emma laid her Lion's body on Regina, pressing urgently for her to stop, licking at Regina's face, and growling in frustration at the toxin she worried she would never chase away.

Henry's feet padded around above, Emma the Lion reeled back.

_henry_

Stepping clear of Regina, Emma re-emerged from her lion-self praying the 'cure' would last longer—long enough to get Henry clear and Regina to safety.

"Emma?" She heard Regina behind her and she peeked back with a nod as she removed her phone from her jeans and pressed a button.

"Dr. Whale, I need you at Mayor Mills' house immediately. Bring a sedative and an ambulance." Emma hung up and dialed again. "Mary Margaret, Henry needs you. His house." She pocketed the phone as she heard Henry navigating down the steps, showered, cleanly dressed, and curious.

"Mom?" Henry looked past Emma and both turned to see Regina in the dining room. Unsteady, but standing and trying to keep her composure. "Is everything okay, Emma?"

When he's descended the final step, Emma knelt before Henry, praying for time, hoping Regina could trust her without argument, or comment, or even one second wasted.

"Henry, listen up, okay?" Emma watched fear creep into Henry's eyes at the seriousness in her voice. "Dr. Whale is coming to take your mom to the hospital because she's not feeling very well tonight. It's something we need to get looked at right away, so we can get it taken care of, okay?"

At his nod, Emma kept on, "Mary Margaret is coming to get you. You have her bring you to the hospital and I'll meet you there. You understand me, right?" She asked, holding his shoulders in the hope that her words were clear. She was thinking so fast, through so many scenarios, worried she'd miss something.

"This isn't about Operation Cobra, is it Emma?" Henry asked quietly, his voice trembling. Emma realized that his eyes had tracked to her shoulder.

Blood covered her shoulder, under a too-big bandage that sat askew over a still weeping wound.

Emma hadn't even felt the cut, but the surprise at seeing her Lion injury on her human form made everything that much more urgent. She fought down the panic and continued.

"No, it isn't, kid." She stared at her son. She recognized herself in Henry, perhaps for the first time, saw her own insecurities and uncertainties, the things she felt everyday and refused to acknowledge. The questions about origin, about purpose. Emma wanted him to have faith, to see the goodness she saw in Regina, to know there was always more to every story. Never had she been more certain of that. "Go pack a little bag of comics, and your pillow, okay? It might be a little late before we get home."

"Okay." Henry said and Emma pulled her to him, folding him in and kissing his hair.

"It's gonna be okay, Henry."

He climbed the stairs slowly, but took one look back, at Regina.

"Everything's going to be fine, honey." Regina reassured. "Go do what Emma said."

The low tones of Regina's familiar voice behind her were a balm on Emma's nerves, but the crucial next step was lined up and there was no time for anything but action.

When Henry had gone, Emma turned to Regina, and pulled her handcuffs from their case.

"You need to put these on." She tossed the cuffs and they clattered across the table, skidding to a stop in front of Regina. "Please, Regina, hurry. I can't do it. You have to help me."

Regina shut her eyes a moment, as though she might open them next to a new reality. When she met Emma's gaze again, trepidation and trust fought for dominance on her features. Emma hated the struggle, wished she could do something, say something…

Regina did as she was requested. Once the teeth of the second cuff engaged, she looked back at Emma.

Emma looked down at the floor. Regina lay prone on the rug.

"I'm sorry." Emma said.

"I know" Regina said, and began to roll herself up into the rug, snugly.

"Can you… maneuver your legs? Over there." Emma pointed, "Between the table and the wall? If you can drop your lower half in there, I think it'll immobilize you."

Regina did it. Did everything. She looked ridiculous, Emma and Regina both knew it, with her head and neck peeking out from the top of a rolled up carpet, awkwardly wedging herself in to the small, tight space as ordered.

Amazingly, Regina even joked.

"Lucky for you, I'm not sensitive to wool."

"Damn lucky." Emma smiled gratefully. She began to move across the room, closer and closer, feeling the change begin in her, knowing Regina had to be seconds from her own, dreadful transformation, "Regina?" Emma said, just as she felt her Lion shimmer begin, "I love you."

Emma the Lion stalked quickly to the couch, catching a pillow in her jaw, she carried it in her mouth to where Regina lay, watching, brown eyes moist and filled with awe.

Emma pushed the pillow beneath Regina's head even as she was sure the change was galloping in and within seconds Regina's body would thrash and struggle against her restraints, calling, screaming, demanding her release. Regina's head would slap at the pillow below with dreadful purpose.

An urgent knock at the door and Emma leapt over the couch, out of sight.

Dr. Whale let himself in as the full attack hit. Emma the Lion used every sense to track Regina, could feel the dreadful banging of her body against her confines, could smell the sedative applied, could hear Regina's limp body moved to a gurney, could experience her own heart break as her mate was wheeled from the house.

Had anyone in Storybrooke been paying close attention that evening, they would have made note of the Lion that moved through the shadowy streets. Nearby, they might have caught the equally rare sight of an ambulance, and the car that sped in the opposite direction that momentarily caught the Lion's gaze. They might have seen Mary Margaret head into Regina's house where Henry waited—after his mother, driven to self-annihilation by some heinous, magical poison, had been carted away.


	12. Chapter 12

Monitors sounded steadily in the stillness of the darkened room.

Emma sat, hands templed before her face, willing herself to be calm. The look of terror that sat in her eyes, however, belied her quiet posture.

Not since the day she delivered—and relinquished—Henry had Emma experienced such a painful and difficult time. Ten years ago, she'd been in prison, on a bed in the infirmary, her labor intense and unforgiving, her heart breaking with every contraction as she understood that with each blip on the monitor she moved a step closer to the end of her relationship with her yet unborn child. Outside the room, she knew, a social worker waited, ready to take Emma's baby from her side, outside the prison walls where she herself still wasn't welcome, the moment he had made his way into the world.

She'd tried not to think about what she'd agreed to, had sometimes even succeeded at pushing it all out of her mind until the last two months of the pregnancy, when her body simply refused to pretend or conceal from her or others the fact that she had a child, growing within her, one that she could never know.

As her 36th hour of labor began, both doctor and nurse pleaded with her to let them perform a c-section, but Emma had steadfastly refused. She knew she did so to punish herself, out of guilt and shame. While Neal's betrayal had made a difficult situation nearly unbearable, it was her own irresponsibility that grated most on Emma. Getting pregnant at this point in her life? It was fucking stupid. Literally. In the end, Emma found herself so utterly unable to cope with the consequences of her actions, she felt that the least she could do was see this one part all the way through. And she'd do it how she'd do everything from there on out: alone.

Emma had her solitude, then, for a decade. She'd constructed impenetrable walls around her heart and tried to imagine that one day she might even forget, might begin to let go of some of the loss she felt every time she saw a child about the age her own would be. She moved and moved and moved to avoid the reminders, avoid attachment, but… there were children, families, everywhere.

When Henry, perfect little Henry with his shock of jet black hair and healthy lungs came screaming out that morning, Emma had wept with wonder, and then with grief. He'd been so beautiful, so sure. Hers. The only thing, really, she'd ever had to call her own. In that single, crystallized moment, she'd wanted desperately to hold him, just once, but she worried that she'd change her mind, worried that he would know the loss of her on some cellular level. Emma had grown up believing that her own mother had held her, had cried painfully at their parting. It had ruled her life, that feeling of helpless division from love, and she didn't want that for Henry.

Never having held her baby was a regret that had haunted Emma from that moment, until a few months ago, when her son had found her. A miracle. And in nearly the same breath, Emma had discovered even more than she'd ever imagined she would. Maybe it was Henry, the connection between them, but she'd let Regina in. She recognized the complicated fire and grudging respect that sparked from the moment they had met. It would never be easy, both of them too hard-headed for that, but Emma had eagerly invited all the complexity and passion and depth that was Regina past her oftentimes fierce defenses. The lure of Regina in her life was strong, and she'd known Regina felt the same way, though she'd been less willing to admit it. And now, just as she recognized the degree of care that had grown between them, Regina was leaving her.

Dr. Whale had run tests, trotted in specialists, questioned Henry and Emma to rule out an array of conditions, and even sent in a priest. But Whale was running on two wrong assumptions that Emma couldn't talk him out of. He was convinced that Regina had an unexplained seizure, and that Regina had not been poisoned. Besides the heavy sedation that was at least effectively preventing Regina from doing herself in, he'd provided no other opinion, no answers, and no treatment.

"What if it's magic?" Emma finally asked him in such a low tone he had to lean forward to hear. She knew what his answer would certainly be.

"Did you say magic? Magic!?" He was incredulous, and then he looked at her like she was mad, "Well, Sheriff, I'm sure I don't know. I'm a scientist, not a magician."

Though she no longer thrashed and grabbed at herself—she was under such deep sedation that they had even removed her restraints—Emma could clearly see the twitching and squirming of the monster moving under Regina's skin. No one else could. The stench of the invader was putrid, but no one but Emma could smell it.

Far harder to deal with, though, were the words. While medicated, Regina still had odd, fleeting seconds of what must have been clarity of situation. Those seconds rippled through the room, like waves of heat, whispering life and conscience and they carried with them words that only Emma heard—as clear as she'd heard Regina's thought in her mind that day not long ago.

"Emma."

"Help!"

"Stop. Hurts!"

"Emma."

"Please!"

"My Henry."

"Emma."

"Take away!"

"Can't. Please!"

And always back to

"Emma."

Once Regina had been well and truly knocked out, Emma had sent Henry to her side, both to assure him and to stand as proxy for her own gut-churning need to touch Regina. But Henry was scared, tentative, unsure about how he felt, afraid for his mother, scared for himself. His hand on Regina's was light, his tears silent. Emma could only sit and watch from a distance, wanting to hurl her own body at the woman, cover every inch of her with love, and take all Regina's pain into herself.

As they entered the second 24 hours, the smell of the toxin had increased. Regina seemed to be losing color, and Emma—no one else, of course—believed that Regina was showing signs of expedited wasting. Dark circles were forming below her eyes, her body losing hydration. Regina was withering away.

Pacing, prowling the room, Emma debated what to do. Stepping in meant she might stop the pain for a few moments, but her Lion-spell clearly offered no permanent cure. Instead, Emma worried, she would merely take Regina, again and again, up to a moment from which her decline would start again, creating nothing but an endless loop of hope, then pain for the woman she loved.

So Emma pressed, and Whale defended his indefensible lack of answers.

Until things got heated.

"Maybe we should get you a few tests, Sheriff…" Whale suggested after Emma had again tried to get him to see what she was seeing.

Emma whirled on him and got up in his face.

"Don't patronize me, Dr." She spoke through clenched teeth. "Do something _else_."

"Sheriff," Whale spoke at her like a child. "There isn't even any reason I can see to keep her sedated. Whatever fit she was having when I got to her house, seems to have faded with pharmaceutical intervention, and is now long past. Sending her home with a modest tranquilizer should do. She can take it if she feels another incident coming on."

"You're sending her home?" Emma was stunned. "_That's_ your solution? She's dying in front of your eyes!"

Whale got out his prescription pad and started to fill it in. "No, Sheriff. In front of _yours_. There have been teams of people in here, and no one – except you – can find anything wrong with Regina. Her heart and respiration are at normal levels under sedation, and have been for hours. She looks exactly as she did four days ago when I saw her last." He stopped writing, suddenly staring at Emma with ill-concealed suspicion, his eyes flicking from her to Henry who was asleep on the couch in the waiting room beyond. "In fact, I'm starting to wonder who in town might benefit from the Mayor being incapacitated, and that this might be a matter for an altogether different authority to take up."

"You are _not_ suggesting that I did something to Regina, are you, Dr.?" Emma's eyes burned, "Because that would be a big mistake."

Whale looked smug in his certainty.

"Perhaps." He said. "Perhaps not."

Emma lost her temper, grabbing him by his collar and propelling him backwards to the nearest wall, where his back hit with a satisfying _crack_.

"I brought her here for you to help her. So help her."

"I really can't help someone who appears to have nothing wrong, Sheriff."

"If you can't fix Regina, then get the hell out." Emma's was seething, but Whale kept on.

"I think you need to leave, Sheriff," Whale spoke her title mockingly. "If you think you can assault me in my own hospital…"

Emma pushed herself off of Whale, effectively shoving him towards the door. "Get out."

"Sheriff…"

"I'm putting this room under quarantine, _Doctor_." She spit Whale's title back. "The whole fucking floor. No one comes in or out of here. Including you."

"You do NOT have the authority to do that."

"I just did." Emma spoke with deadly calm. "Get out of this room."

Emma reassured Henry and Mary Margaret as best she could that all was well after Whale stormed away. She asked that Mary Margaret take Henry home for the night. As they were leaving, Emma pulled Henry to her.

"I love you, kid. You hear me?"

Henry hugged back, grinning broadly. "Me, too, Emma!"

"Now, go get some rest okay? And you get yourself to school tomorrow. Your mom's gonna be fine, but if you miss another school day, she won't be happy, will she?" Henry shook his head and Emma smiled, "Leave everything to me, kid. I'll make sure she gets better, okay?"

"Okay." Henry said, his cheeks flushed.

Mary Margaret shot her a worried glance, but took Henry off with his assignment .

Emma watched until the elevator arrived, and the doors closed behind them.

Looking at Regina lying quietly in the bed, Emma wondered if she _was_ hallucinating, if this entire crazy last few days had been just one long, bad trip.

To her, Regina looked at the edge of death. Emma knew what her choice was, and as she moved around the room, locking doors, lowering blinds, she prepared herself.

She was removing her jacket, placing it over a chair for Regina to find later, when she heard four words in her head. Far quieter than the previous had been, nearly whispered.

They were last words.

"I love you, Emma."

Emma raced across the room and shimmered one final time into the Lion before emerging by the bed as a brand new version of her enchanted self.

The snake head on Emma the Chimera's tail bared its fangs, and sunk them deep into Regina's wrist. Her Lion head howled in pain.

Regina awoke to a change in the rhythmic ping of the hospital monitor. Her heart was pounding, hale and strong. A tickle at her wrist, made her reach down to scratch, meeting an expected fluff of fur. Rolling her head to the side, she felt immense relief at the sight of a Lion, asleep on the floor, the tip of a long tail resting over her wrist.

Feeling utterly restored, Regina swung her legs around and climbed out of the bed, and found herself unexpectedly stiff.

_how long…_

Memories were surfacing, voices, loud and urgent. Emma angry, Henry, even Mary Margaret. There was Dr. Whale looking clueless, and even a priest. She remembered needles, blood tests, an MRI. She remembered restraints.

Regina exhaled quietly, moving around the bed. She noted Emma's jacket over a chair, how the room had been closed and locked up tight. It was only the two of them here. Regina's fingers tripped over her hospital file, hanging from the bed. She snapped up the file and moved to sit next to Emma the Lion on the floor.

"I didn't even know you _could_ sleep," she said to the beast, running a hand lovingly down the flank.

Regina opened the file and began to read. She flipped page after page, each making her more worried than the last. The Doctor had found nothing. Nothing. Why then was she well? At the corner of her eye, Regina noted a change at her wrist. She held it closer and dropped the metal-covered file to the floor with a clang.

Two fresh puncture wounds were healing.

_Something bit into her wrist, hard, and Regina's eyes flew open. She felt the poison retreating, leaving her body in a great draw. It was Emma, transformed again, and Regina watched as the Emma the Chimera retracted the poison through her serpent's great fangs, while the entirety of Emma restored Regina, healed her, a paw on her heart, a lick to her face. The last of the toxin left Regina's body, the Chimera shimmered away, and the Lion remained behind._

Regina looked again at the creature beside her. Yearning for the woman embodied within.

No one had ever loved her as Emma had. Even Daniel had hesitated, argued against her plans, her future for them, giving Cora precious time to stop them, to kill him, to destroy Regina's happy ever after.

She'd been so sure he was her last, her only love. Yet, here was Emma, as unflinching as ever, refusing to walk away from any battle. Not even the Dread Death could prevent her. She had no limitations, there was no backing down. Regina loved, was re-assured by that indomitable spirit. Regina ran her hand again, over the body of the Lion, and stopped. Her hands at roughly where she imagined a Lion's heart should be, she felt nothing. She scurried to a kneeling position and put her ear to the expanse of chest.

"No."

Regina tried not to breathe, listening intently, blocking out any and every other sound.

There was, deep within, a low, slow thud. The faint heartbeat, though, was losing speed. Even as Regina lay half on her Lion, listening, the wasting began, furiously fast, and in seconds, Emma the Lion was boney and fragile beneath her. Regina tried to gather Emma to her, able to wrap both arms about the emaciated form, to pull an animal that should have been ridiculously heavy, up and onto her lap.

"Oh, what did you do?!" Regina whispered vehemently into the silence of the room. "Emma! What did you do?"

Emma the Lion continued to fade, her breath growing shallower, and Regina was beside herself.

"Stop! Emma! Please, stop!"

She grabbed at Emma the Lion in gentle desperation, grappling with what she could do, what anyone could do.

She held Emma's Lion face with one hand and spoke with furious exactness into a Lion ear.

"Emma, change back! Back to Chimera," Regina thrust her wrist at Emma. "You can live. You can feed from me." Tears began to slide from sad, dark eyes, and Regina resisted giving over to them.

Emma lifted her head a fraction. Regina watched, breathless as Emma slowly rose to her four paws with agonizing effort. Her head hung, too spent to raise it up. She took two long strides, all four legs trembling beneath her. But she didn't change. She didn't transform.

And Emma the Lion crumbled to the floor.

The fur that'd come loose from her sagging coat hung for a bit, drifting through the air, before coming to rest again on the cold ground.

Regina shook with anticipation, waiting for the change, wanting to _see_ Emma.

"Darling?" Regina's question echoed in the room. Heard by no one. Tears now coursed down her cheeks, one following another. Her eyes were growing wild as she watched for something, for the Lion's next breath, but the chest was still.

"EMMA!" Regina crawled on hands and knees and wrapped her arms around the beast again, burying her face in the fur, the mane, "No! Emma, please. No. NO! Everyone wants you to live. They _need_ you. Henry loves you." She pleaded, and grabbed at the still body under her hands. "It doesn't matter if I go. No one will care. Nobody needs me. Please, Emma, don't do this. Let _me_ go! Please. Please!"

Tears fell from Regina's eyes onto the fur of a dead Lion

and the Lion transformed. One last time.

Emma.

Emma's chest rose, the breath shallow. Slow. Regina realized she held not a lion anymore, but Emma, and Regina's own breathing stopped, until soft eyelids fluttered open.

A glow graced the world, and it came from Regina. The evil queen, the murderer, the ruthless, the unrepentant. The breadth of her smile hurt her reddened cheeks, her heart tumbled and pounded and zinged through her chest as she grasped Emma's face in her hands, finally.

Finally.

"My love." Regina said and closed her eyes, touching her forehead to Emma's, letting her heart soar again, soar higher than ever before.

Emma smiled, an exhausted, half-smile, as gratitude and joy and relief all vied for expression.

"Hi."

"Shut up," Regina said, smiling, as she brought her mouth close to Emma, "And kiss me."

Emma looked into dark eyes she'd never thought she'd see again, eyes that shone with a love. She brought a hand up to the soft nape of a neck she never thought she'd touch, a neck that fit with wondrous certainty in her palm.

Emma kept her eyes open until the last moment, tracking Regina's gaze, memorizing everything, freezing in time her every sense, the feel of every atom, as their lips met with the barest touch.

-tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**EMMA**

Emma took the stairs two at a time. Hated it. Hated that stairs had been built up a mountain, hated this mountain, hated stairs in general, hated everything. But the workout was hard and in the short span of a week, after her whole life had been flipped upside down, she was back to where she'd started—needing nothing so badly as a hard workout. Because of Regina.

_Their lips lingered, _

_meeting like clouds,_

_Just a tick past hover_

_Still, mostly, waiting, holding, _

_Both hesitated, _

_both ached to not_

_Threatening spun sugar_

_Filling them too much_

_Perhaps it was fear_

_Perhaps it was hope_

_Perhaps it was the lie. _

Probably it was the lie.

Emma couldn't entirely blame Regina. She'd refused to examine, investigate, to police the events. She'd stashed Rudy Vega's valise in a file cabinet and locked it away. It'd all been ridiculous. Too intense. She'd hardly had time to breathe, let along solve a mystery so extreme it threatened to question and re-evaluate everything she had ever known.

Of course, she'd known Regina was lying, holding something back as she explained the curse, the enchantment. Hiding.

_The curse of the 'Dread Death.' _

"Pshaw." Emma expelled, lungs hurting as she climbed, remembering how stupid she'd thought the name had been at the time, but so caught up in the moment—and so very sure the danger was real. Had been.

As her heart rate increased, her head cleared, and Emma returned to trying to sort through the wavy lines of grey. Would it have mattered if Regina had said something before? Would anything be different? What happened now?

Emma pulled back a hairsbreadth. Regina's eyes opened. They shone copper in the light. Shining, sparking with heat and promise.

"I love you." Emma said as her thumb traced soft pink. They were so close she felt the smoothness of the nail along her own lips. She loved, and she'd hoped she'd chosen wisely. Parts of Emma clenched under the gaze in reply, moved in, and let her bottom lip rest, her top, tug.

And that was it.

Regina reacted immediately, releasing a long slow breath, sitting straighter, pressing back, urgent.

_finally _

Emma felt the shaking. Low at first, as if vibrating from somewhere deep within Regina. Emma pulled her in, tongue reaching out to soothe, to taste the woman who graced her arms. Regina's groan made Emma grip tighter, hold on as her own emotions, taut, peaking, and tremulous, welled and crested.

tears fell, breath rushed, aches pushed, need dampened

teeth and wet tongue, sipping and nipping

almost dainty with care,

then not,

a flood was rising

and Regina's shaking grew.

"Is it too much?" Emma gasped out, looking now at dark, stormy features, full flush with passion, lips thick. She saw her own reflection in Regina's dusky eyes. They both looked terrified.

"No!" Regina urged, "Don't stop."

"But you're trembling." Emma pulled her still closer. Closer. Buried her face at Regina's neck. "Regina." She spoke the name into her, in reverence. She wanted to give Regina everything, wanted to fix everything, to change everything.

And she wanted everything back, in return.

Emma traveled up the side of Regina's neck, instantly drunk from the tart scent, the warm skin that filled her mouth. She became lost at Regina's earlobe, tonguing it and tracing the shell of her ear, letting her breath rumble through, making Regina shudder still more.

Moan out...

"Oh, Emma," Regina was relinquishing herself, her body loosening in Emma's grasp, "I love you, too," and the whole of those words, said by those lips, in the shuddering, rolling moment so crystal, so right, and Emma trusted herself, trusted Regina.

_It really was okay._

Her hand was moving from behind Regina, into her shirt, slipping lower and the surge forward she felt, emboldened Emma further.

The lurch of the building seemed odd.

_But, this skin…_

Regina flinched and started to retreat.

"It's the heater or something." Emma mumbled, grappling, grabbing at handfuls of Regina to keep them both focused.

"Wait."

"Regina, please." Emma would plead. Had no problem with pleading. A bit more, only a bit, with no interruptions. No evil octopi, no evil eagles, no evil poisons, no evil. Just them.

The door burst open. Pieces of the frame flew about, unprepared as it was to being smashed to pieces with a makeshift battering ram. David stood there, staring at them both with a weird expression.

"The Evil Queen," he said, glaring at Regina. "There you are."

So. Curses—plural—got broken that day. After that, well, there was a mess of stuff that Emma longed to just forget.

_Please. _

_Whenever. _

_Now._

But instead, nothing was the same. No ONE was the same. The entirety of Storybrooke, apart from Emma and Henry, seemed to have lost completely lost their minds.

Had Emma suspected? Sure. Even before all the crazy began at the mansion. But was she ready to know the real truth?

_No, thank you._

The view from the top of Mt. Diablo didn't really look much different than it had a week ago.

It could have been the same day—except for the fact that the Evil Queen had nearly been Emma's lover and Storybrooke was awash with dwarves hatched from eggs, wolf-women, and knights.

It could have been the same day—except that Emma had raced down the mountain a week ago because Regina had called her, needed her. She'd done everything in her power for Regina and never really thought it would turn out to be a mistake. She hadn't heard from Regina. Nothing for three days. Not even in her head. Emma didn't know if breaking the curses meant that their unique communication style was finished, or if she had simply respected Emma's teary entreaty, "Leave me alone."

It could have been the same day—except for the decorations that Emma saw dotting the streets, the banners and streamers, the bunting and flowers, the floats and the lined up marching band. The Festival of Wings had been in the planning stage for almost a year, and Storybrooke was morphing the celebration to become a party for the breaking of the curse.

And for the impotence of their formerly evil Queen.

**REGINA**

Regina knew what she was doing. Knew that kissing Emma, really kissing her, would in all likelihood mean risking—perhaps even losing—everything.

With the dying Lion Emma on her lap, faced with the prospect of their relationship ending, Regina felt tremendous clarity. Maybe the clearest she'd been since the day she got Henry. It would never again be enough to try to go on with Emma, business as usual. She'd rather sacrifice herself, than not know Emma. Not know all of Emma. And she wanted Emma to know all of her.

She wanted to tell her the truth. The whole, hideous truth. She wanted to live, finally, without the weight of hiding, of regret. Before Emma, Regina had felt nearly drowned by her mistakes, wore them like a hair shirt. Daniel. Her mother. Snow. Henry. Even after Emma's arrival, there had been Graham, and the dreadful business with Catherine. Countless hearts glowed their eerie, incessant reminders at her during the day, and beat with accusation in her dreams at night.

The last several days, though, as their interactions had moved from grudging accord to peace to acknowledged love, Regina believed—because Emma made sure she did—that she could step outside, to breathe, to feel the sun. That she deserved the security of another, of a partner that met her at every turn with only honesty, honor, and surety. A partner who believed in her possibility, and expected her to be her best. To not give into the worst of herself.

When Emma had finally changed back, lying on Regina's lap and freed from the poison by what, they still didn't know—when she'd had opened her eyes and smiled with love and desire dancing amid the startling blue, Regina knew she didn't want to go back, ever. No matter what.

And when Emma said

_I love you_

With no hesitation. When she moved her mouth close to Regina's lips, when they spoke with touch the volumes of need written on their hearts, the shaking was probably inevitable.

Regina felt herself quake. It began at her toes, but moved quickly to pulse at her essence as Emma's tongue took her by surprise, pressing, and sliding in.

Nothing in Regina's history prepared her for what she was experiencing. Something—besides Emma—certainly, must be causing the trembling. Perhaps it was the magic of Emma's spell, instigating itself within the breaking of the curses? Perhaps it was just the way the dark curse she'd cast so long ago felt as it shattered around her.

But, as their kiss deepened and Regina felt her breath catch, her legs quiver, and her body go drench with desire, she thought, no.

_It's Emma. _

_It's us._

And when Emma pulled away a moment, Regina panicked, needing her back, needing her always. And the three words fell from Regina's lips as though she had said them a thousand times. She loved Emma, and getting to tell her so was as perfect a gift as any treasure in any kingdom.

And Emma was on her neck, capturing the proof of Regina's love in soft lips. Regina was grateful for her own heart, for in that moment, Emma could naught but feel the thunderous pace, and would forever know what she meant to the woman she held.

But then.

The energy changed. The lurch and crash, and Regina knew what was coming and she tried to get clear from Emma to avoid putting her in danger.

She hadn't had time to tell the truth. Wouldn't have time to do anything at all.

"The Evil Queen." David observed, from across the room.

The woman she'd been. The past she'd made. It fell onto Regina as though the very sky had collapsed upon her.

She looked at her past, at James, and saw only righteous anger. She looked at Emma, her now, her future, and saw only confusion.

Regina lay a careful hand on Emma's face.

"Get your hands off of her, Regina!" David barked and advanced, a sword in his hand.

Regina instead stroked Emma's cheek, along her lips, and tried to smile with more comfort than confidence, to somehow reassure Emma that this, that _they_ didn't have to be over, that _they_ weren't something untrue, were instead something separate, and more beautiful than all other things.

As Regina stood, disentangling herself from Emma's now shock-laden limbs, she wondered if her magic had returned with the breaking of the curse. She wondered that she found herself so unprepared when this moment happened. Instead of poised and ready, she was still shaking from Emma's hands, still wet from Emma's touch.

She laughed at herself, shook her head.

"How dare you laugh about this?" David's jaw clenched, tight enough to snap his sword in two.

Regina held up her hand in a gesture of peace.

"I'm not laughing at you, James." Regina said, her voice low, soothing. She tipped her head at him in a kind of acknowledgment that clearly surprised them both. "I'm laughing at myself."

She turned to Emma, and held her hand out.

"Emma?" Regina said, her tone low and meant for only the woman before her. She waited.

Emma, though, ignored the offer of her hand. Her cheeks, her ears were pinked by their intimacies, and she self-consciously lowered her head, almost tripping over her feet to stand apart from Regina while eying David, askance. The 'what the fuck?' didn't need to be said.

"Emma..." She tried again.

"Leave my daughter alone, Regina, and come with me. Now." James stepped closer, his sword raising higher until it drew level to Regina's throat.

Regina tensed, half expecting Emma to sprout fur and leap in front of her.

Instead, nothing happened, and when Regina glanced aside, her heart splintered. Had it been outside her body, it would have fallen to dust, lost to the expression of betrayal and mistrust that had overtaken Emma's lovely face.

**EMMA**

For a time Emma raged at Regina for making everything harder than it had to be, for putting them both in more danger than was perhaps necessary. She ranted about Regina lying to and about Henry, and the damage that had brought upon their son. She stormed out, though, and didn't look back, because of the part she didn't share with Regina. She had trusted again. She got burned. Again. She had to go. Again.

Didn't she?


	14. Chapter 14

**EMMA**

As Emma reached the summit, she knew Regina was up there somewhere, long before she saw her.

She _shouldn't_ have known she had company on Mt. Diablo, but there was no mistaking the scent that reached her nose. Emma's sense of smell had remained impossibly sensitive since her transformation in the hospital. She'd found herself walking around town, nauseous by the assault of odors, some pleasant, some not, on people as they passed, from open cars, billowing from buildings. She'd marveled at how much one heightened sense told her about the others around her, and about the life they'd been leading.

For the last three days, though, one scent—Regina—real, alive and often pulsing with adrenaline, had overridden all else. It formed a foundation onto which Emma latched, clung to, even as she was still steeped in rage after discovering that Regina had kept critical information from her. In spite of their intimate exchanges, their shared experiences, their expressed commitment. Regina could be blocks, even miles, away, but from her scent, Emma knew where she was—in the breeze, at a window—knew it, and was anchored by it.

As much as she had wanted to run away after learning about this impossible new wrinkle that Regina had chucked between them, the goal of latching onto that one, unique scent each day had thus far prevented Emma from packing up. She understood there was sentimentality at work, that little more than a week ago, that scent had meant Regina lived, even as she bled out on the floor of the Mayor's mansion. Sentimental or no, Emma recognized the importance it held. That scent had re-defined Emma's world, had brought into sharp relief the depth of Emma's need for Regina to be well, to be whole. It had made Emma understand the power of her enchantment, and it had jolted from Emma the love she'd held back. It had begun then, she knew. How could she fault herself for finding it impossible to walk away, when the reminder of that moment came to her again and again, proof of Regina living, breathing, vital...

After realizing the enormity of Regina's deception, after understanding all the heartache she had wrought, after hearing all the stories, Emma worried that she would be a colossal dupe if she didn't assume the worst and turn her back, saving herself from further pain. Yet, Emma also knew she couldn't actually see into the future. (As far as she knew, no one in Storybrooke could, but she was looking out for it, obviously.) Still, she did understand a few other things, after the curse broke.

She was the savior. Regina, perhaps more than anyone in all of Storybrooke, needed just such a person. Presently, she seemed reasonably safe—at least from others, and all things considered. The people of Storybrooke's anger began to dissipate, or change, anyway, not long after the break. The townspeople quickly realized that they had much to do to repair their lives, become accustomed to newly crowded psyches, sort out their past and their present and begin to shape their futures. Regina no longer wielded magic, and was as mortal and as vulnerable as they all were.

To everyone's surprise, Regina was even trying to help. She offered to fill in missing pieces, and made sure that those friends and families separated by the curse had been quickly reunited. Her remorse was obvious to anyone. The initial calls for Regina's head were beginning to quell. No longer the puppet master, it was clear that Regina was struggling with her own concerns, and she—it turned out—was more broken than most of her victims. Many were, essentially, ignoring her, which proved to be a most effective means of humbling and wounding Regina. Emma took issue from the town's rather perverse pleasure at seeing its effect, but couldn't blame them. Still, with revenge not at the top of their concerns, people seemed by and large eager to move on. As evidence, the festival preparing to launch down below had turned into a celebration that didn't include a plan to kill Regina. It just didn't include her at all.

Regina was getting safer by the day, and any fear Emma may have for her continued existence, she knew, grew less and less grounded in reality.

Emma's eyes fixed on a single spot as she walked toward the tree park at the far end of the summit. The spot was becoming a shape, one that was inexorably attached to that scent which Emma knew she sought out each morning upon leaving her house. Whatever Emma may have thought she'd do up on top of this mountain this morning, she wasn't going to accomplish. For there Regina stood, across the park, looking to the far off horizon.

Emma felt her body respond, one knee caving in a bit as the scent grew layered now—Regina's musky shampoo wafted, mixed, as waves of black hair were tossed by the wind.

Emma tried to shake off the power, the smell of her. She wanted to think, to be smart. She wanted her brain to stop categorizing a mere olfactory detection as some unbreakable tether that connected them. Emma was close enough to see Regina clearly now. She was dressed more casually than Emma could ever remember. Soft-soled shoes, flats, encased her feet, dark leggings, a long, white sweater, thin scarf. A pea coat was draped on the nearby bench. Emma had never seen any of the clothes on Regina before and for a moment thought she'd been wrong in her recognition. But no. That scent could be no one else.

As she moved forward, covering ground quickly, eager to say whatever it was she was going to say, Emma stopped. What if Regina even knew the whole heightened sensory stuff was happening, knew it and was making sure it continued. Emma didn't dare put anything past Regina any longer. After all, who _was_ Regina, anyway?

_The woman I love_

Emma admitted, resolute.

And so much more.

_That, too._

She watched as Regina wiped a tear with the back of her hand. And another.

And with that, Emma realized that she _already_ knew everything she needed to know about Regina. Everything.

**REGINA**

Regina stood, staring at the world beyond Storybrooke. She'd sought out the view on purpose, the same perspective she'd seen through Emma's eyes in those first enchanted moments– another world of promise and possibility, a life outside the confines of the one Regina's curse had so carefully crafted, a world that Emma had reminded her existed.

The curses had ended, yes, but Regina felt as confined as she had been for the last 28 years. Longer. She was still deeply burdened, and dreadfully unhappy, and wondered at how she could have made so many terrible mistakes. The town had shunned her, she was without magic, Henry wasn't talking to her—and staying with Snow White of all people, and Emma… Emma was, it seems, gone—or leaving.

She'd tried not to look for Emma. Tried not to press the issue. Tried not to glance at her phone every two minutes. Not since before her mother's… departure had Regina been as demonstrably passive as she had been over the last several days. With her mother, there was no choice—it had been survival. Now, it was out of respect, giving Emma the space she needed, had requested. Every moment Regina sat on her hands not dialing the phone, not steering her car to the station, not walking up to Emma's home, not knocking at her door, every painful, endless _second_ had been filled with the hope that in the end, Emma would return to her. That the two of them could see their way clear. Together. Emma had promised she wouldn't leave her, but Regina felt more certain with every passing moment that the land she could see from this lofty perch was the land Emma would disappear to—if she hadn't already left.

Of course, it had been too much to hope for, Regina supposed. Too much for her.

"Oh, Emma." Regina sighed out, and wrapped her arms around herself, a familiar posture of cold despair.

"Haven't seen you do that in a few days." Emma said from behind. Regina whirled to face her. "Maybe you'd let _me_ hold you, instead?"

**EMMA AND REGINA**

"Emma!" Regina rushed to her, unable to do any less, and she was in Emma's arms, enfolded in warmth, pulling in the fresh, sweat-tinged scent of her, relishing the soft curves she felt pressed to her own, the strength of Emma's embrace, the hand that made its way up and into Regina's hair and held her close.

"It's okay. We're gonna be okay." Emma said.

"I've done unspeakable things. Unforgivable things." Regina began, her body going tense in Emma's arms.

"You're gonna need to let me decide that." Emma encouraged.

As had been her practice her entire life, Regina worried that her feelings of self-hatred and guilt would eventually overwhelm that of even Emma's love. She would hate her, then. She pushed back and stared into soft eyes.

"I killed Graham with my bare hands." Through habit, she tried to bury her regret and admit to the deed flatly, it was no effort for Emma to hear the truth. Whether intimidation reigned or Regina yearned to appear unmoved, Emma long ago understood that Regina's lowest timbre was reserved for expressing the darkest aspects of a splintered heart.

"Regina, don't," Emma urged, but the worst of expressions etched into her eyes.

Regina wanted only to fall back into the comfort of those arms, but she steeled herself for the reaction that had to come.

"I'm not gonna say I understand." Emma puzzled over her next thought. Regina waited. "And I should probably lock you up for that," Emma said quietly, yet there was no threat in her tone.

"Yes. You should." She was practically begging, she knew, but if Emma were going to leave her, she'd as soon be in prison as anywhere else.

But instead, Emma drew her in again.

"I don't believe you're that person anymore." Emma said and Regina shook her head into the broad shoulder beneath her cheek.

"You can't know that!" She choked out, "How can you be sure? I was sure you were you leaving me."

"I thought I was. Until I figured out why the curse you were under broke."

Reluctantly, Regina pulled far enough away to look quizzically and wait to hear what Emma had learned.

"Your tears, in the hospital. You cried, and then you offered your life for mine,." Emma gave a quirk of a smile. "You wouldn't have done that. Before. Would you?"

Regina listened, could only shake her head in reply. Emma collected a newly falling drop with her thumb.

"Your willingness to sacrifice yourself? How could you still be cursed after that? You didn't fit the bill anymore. No arrogance. No evil." Emma shrugged, "And, I know you love me. I just _know_ it." Emma smiled. "Maybe I'm delusional, but I believed you when you told me, and I believe you now."

"I wasn't lying!" Regina said with a sad fierceness that nearly broke Emma's heart.

Emma reluctantly continued, "I read your story, Regina. Your mother..." The sadness heightened.

"I made choices every day." Regina insisted, shaking her head.

Emma nodded, accepting that. "And every day we can make new ones."

Regina grabbed at Emma, pulled herself back in, and filled her hands with love.

"I was going to tell you. I was going to tell you everything, and then I was finally able to hold you in my arms, and then you were kissing me." Regina was amazed to feel the blush rise in her own cheek, something she'd have to get used to, she hoped. "I think I've been waiting my whole life for you to kiss me." She felt Emma's smile against her skin.

"Well," Emma whispered, "I am pretty good."

And Regina laughed.

Emma had never heard so perfect a sound.

Loud fireworks sounded below them, then, as the Festival of Wings officially began.

Regina looked wistfully back at the town.

"Let's go see Henry." Emma suggested.

"Emma…" Regina started to protest, but Emma stopped her with a gentle caress.

"I think he's getting there. He should see you." She got in close, "WE should talk to him."

"You're feeling mighty confident, hmmn?" Regina remarked.

Emma just grinned and took Regina's hand. They'd never held hands before, and it was… magic. Truthfully, Emma hadn't a clue what Henry would think or say or do, but she'd handle it. She was the freakin' savior after all. And anyway, _this_ moment was for her and Regina, and nothing was going to change that.

As they made their way down Diablo, they talked. There was so much to say, there hardly seemed enough years ahead of them to say it all. As they reached a small parking lot near the bottom, Emma held open Regina's car door, but stopped Regina from entering with a gentle hand.

"Whatever happens. You and me, okay?" And at Regina's nod, Emma leaned. The scent she'd hungered for filled her head. She drew Regina's lips between her own and sighed.

Regina responded with a grateful moan. The kiss lingered, until...

"I'll tell you a secret, Emma whispered, "If I had a hundred lives I would never tire of kissing you."

"We should be safe with your nine, then?" Regina joked.

"Hell, yes." Emma puffed up, looking rather like the Lion she sometimes was.

The dark Mercedes wound slowly down the hill. Hands held inside the car, until they had to break apart.

Ready to face the villagers.

/tbc


	15. Chapter 15

_When you imagine the end of your life, what do you see? Are you old? Young? Are you alone? With a family? A partner? Are you happy? Are you full of regrets or are you awash in blessings? Do you feel like you've lived well? Lived fully? Or are there great gaps of meaning and purpose, vast chasms of lost time? _

_Can anyone save you? What must they do? Who are they? _

_When you see the end of your life, do you imagine a savior?_

**Regina, Emma, and Henry**

Regina saw the terror first, both feet hit the brakes hard and she and Emma narrowly avoided slamming into the dash as the car came to an abrupt stop. Emma was still processing what had happened when Regina was out the door and racing across the town plaza. She was shoving people from her path, not looking back. People barked at her, but she'd already sprinted well past by the time they'd regained their footing.

Emma was not far behind, and now she, too, saw the winged beast landing on the far side of the library roof.

"Don't look!" Regina was screaming as she ran. "No one look at it!"

The 'it' was curling its long reptilian tail, was disappearing along with the rest of the body behind the library's clock tower. On the other side of the roof, startled at the sound of Regina's voice, yet gratefully seeking her out stood Henry.

As townspeople were scattering in every direction to get away from the library, Emma and Regina raced forward, raced to their son.

"Henry!" Regina looked up at him, out of her reach, her entire body yearning to lift from the ground, to capture him magically in her arms. Her hands twitched for the power that would move him to safety. "Henry! Don't look! Just come to the edge of the roof. You need to jump down. I'll catch you."

Regina was waving him over to her. Emma could see the caution in his eyes—not for his mother, but for fear of what she was asking from him. Emma skidded to her side.

"Come on, kid! Jump!" Emma joined, "It's okay." Their arms held aloft, both of them felt the futility of it. Both heard the low, hissing creep and slither across the roof. Regina grabbed Emma's hand.

"Can you?" She asked, and before her eyes, Emma became the Lion once more.

Covered in fur and rippling muscle, Emma the Lion looked back at Regina, who snatched up the aluminum top of a nearby trash can, grabbed a fistful of Emma's mane, and slid astride Emma's back.

"A Gorgon. Don't look at it, no matter what," Regina instructed.

Two leaps—from pavement to awning, from awning to roof, and both of Henry's mothers' were at his side.

Regina got quickly off Emma and on her feet, avoiding gazing in the direction of the monster nearby.

But Henry startled again, stumbling backwards to avoid the Lion that now moved toward him.

"Henry, it's Emma!" Regina screamed, "It's only Emma, see?" And Regina let her hand stroke at the neck of the beast, who nudged back at her with nothing if not love.

And Regina saw her son look at her in wonder, and she saw him smile, and she heard the terrifying screech, the call from the Gorgon that captured Henry's attention.

And Henry looked over his shoulder.

"HENRY!" Regina cried out, as Henry's body transformed from flesh to stone, his heart stopping, blood freezing, like so much mercury, rolling to a halt in his veins. "HENRY!"

Emma the Lion approached the stone likeness that had been the boy, with caution, sniffing at it, understood, and roared in anger.

"You broke my curssssse!" The monster behind them yelled at Regina, livid.

Regina held her impromptu shield aloft and spoke from behind it, in the direction of the Gorgon. That voice, she knew. Of course.

Maleficent.

"It must not have been a very good one, dear." Regina replied, drenching her response with condescension.

"It wassssss unbreakable!" The familiar voice was shaking in anger and Regina braced herself, feet spread, shield raised.

Maleficent was hurtling across the roof at Regina with staggering speed, and though she dare not look, Regina knew the monster would be on her in seconds.

"Emma," Regina gasped out, "take Henry away! She'll destroy him."

Henry's body, not his clothes, had become solid stone, so Emma carefully opened her huge mouth, scrambled at the bottom of his shirt, grabbing at chunks of his jacket, gathered a mouthful and shut her great jaws. She lifted the tremendous weight of the Henry statue up off the ground with difficulty, the strain showing at her neck. Carefully, as Regina kept the Gorgon distracted—by enraging her, it seemed—Emma the Lion moved quietly to the far side of the roof, set Henry carefully on his side, and tried to figure out how to get the boy off the roof without smashing him to bits.

"You and your pathetic sssssavior. Really, Regina, couldn't you do better than that?"

"Jealousy really doesn't suit you, dear." Regina replied, her heart not really in this tired exchange. She was scouring the ground around her for a weapon, any weapon. So long as she didn't take the bait and drop her guard, Maleficent wouldn't beat her.

She hoped.

"All ssssssoft, fleshy female," Maleficent continued, her tone loathsome and petty. "Ssssso much eassssssier to crush."

Though she couldn't see the front of the tower, Regina knew what was there—the hands of the clock. Hard, cold steel, forged to a lethal point. She moved a step closer. Another.

"Yet you couldn't crush her, could you? Nothing can." Regina called behind her with a short whistle, saw Emma raise her head and come running.

Maleficent laughed wickedly. "You know I can't resist a challenge, Regina."

Regina needed to see her enemy and chanced turning herself around, away from the voice, so she could peer at the back of her shield to see the reflection of the beast. Maleficent was enormous, easily 8-feet high, winged, and her head was covered in swarming vipers. The bottom half of her was lizard-like, nearly prehistoric, with a heavily tipped tail that swayed with clear and deadly warning. Emma reached her side and Regina grabbed at the mane, grateful to feel the solidness of the animal, the company of her partner.

Together they moved incrementally closer to the clock, with the shield and Regina standing between Emma and the Gorgon.

Regina tensed, the monster was following too close.

"Your luck isssss about to run out!" Maleficent was rising up, her body stretching well above Regina.

Regina motioned to Emma to the clock hands, communicating her needs with a nod and a gesture.

Emma set to work on the clock, bending the long hand up with the sheer strength of one paw, bending it down, hoping to weaken the metal enough to rip it in two.

Regina turned back as Maleficent's tail started to whip along the surface of the roof and Regina squealed, leapt to avoid it. On its return trip, Maleficent head bent close, close enough behind the shield that Regina heard the pronounced hiss and snap of the snakes adorning the monster's head.

"Oh, come on. Really? A Gorgon?" Regina mocked, stepping towards the beast, using only the power of her contempt to make Maleficent yield a few steps. "But you were never very inventive, were you?"

Maleficent reared up in rage. She screeched that ear-splitting sound once more and jerked at Regina, hitting the shield with the snake-tressed head. Regina stumbled backwards, nearly dropping her guard.

She was running out of room, out of roof. Maleficent had cornered her at the inside edge of the clock tower.

"Not me, thisssss time…" Maleficent laughed again.

Regina moved the last three steps, towards the front of the clock. Her outstretched hand landed on Emma. Regina saw that her Lion was still leaning out, still struggling to snap the metal clock hand free. Gaping wounds bled at both paws, dripping in a steady stream onto the street below, smearing the metal.

Regina felt the Gorgon move up higher, undulating up and around the other side of the clock face. At any second, Maleficent's visage would be unavoidable, for both she and Emma.

"Hurry, Emma!" Regina hissed in a desperate whisper. As she did the metal of the clock hand final gave in, relinquishing itself with a snap. As Regina caught the weapon before it fell to the street below, Emma the Lion began to sag under the blood loss, the effort. Regina wrapped an arm about her, but there was too much Lion to help. Too much. She began to slip from Regina's grasp, precariously close to dropping to the street below. Regina thought if anyone could manage such a descent, surely a Lion could, but before they could find out, Maleficent reminded them of their true plight.

The Gorgon had repositioned herself at the opposite side of the tower. She raised her tail and with a voice laced with hate, said, "Say goodbye, sweet lovers."

Her tail whipped from behind her, slamming into Emma, forcing her Lion's body from Regina's grip, and her furred chest into the sheered, sharp edge that remained of the tower hand.

Emma the Lion yelped in pain. And fell.

Emma fell backwards, from the roof, from Regina's reaching, straining arm waving helplessly above. She fell hard, on her back, to the street below

Regina peered down at the Lion's body below. She watched with horror as the Lion became the woman, and the pool of blood surrounding her grew. Wide. Regina turned back, sword raised, to Maleficent who was cackling with delight, still close, still too too close.

"I'll kill you!" Regina warned through gritted teeth, face contorting. "If she's dead, I'll KILL you!"

"You'd better, _dear_," Maleficent advised, "For I'll jussssst. Keep. Coming…" And her long, scaly body stretched to its full length, the tale whipping in a sadistic back and forth, smacking and splintering the clock tower, breaking off roof tiles and sending them airborne.

_Emma_

_Henry_

Regina had—unlike Maleficent—something to fight for. Two somethings. Two. It didn't matter how many times she came back, Regina would fight for her son, for her love. No matter any of the riches or the power she'd retained, no matter the rush that came with the fulfillment of sheer greed, the relish of getting everything she'd ever said she wanted, the two things that mattered most in the world now needed her to finish this.

For good.

Regina turned her back on the Gorgon, raised her sword in one hand, her rusty, awkward weapon in the other, and ran. Backwards. Back at Maleficent, as Emma's face filled Regina's mind, Emma's touch. As Henry's embrace called to her, his sweet thin arms wrapping her up. She had to have those again. All of it. She'd fight. To the death if needed.

The death.

The snakes of a Gorgon are powerful beasts. Each one can fell a grown man with a single bite, and with a dozen swirling and weaving upon her head, Maleficent could drop an army. Regina felt the first bite in her shoulder as Maleficent dropped her head, but her arm met Regina's first off-target thrust.

As she pulled back on the 'sword' for another go, Regina felt the second bite land on her wrist. She had to land a fatal hit.

The hour hand of the Storybrooke clock tower found its mark, square in the throat of the flailing Gorgon. As Regina pulled the weapon from the beast's body, she fell to her knees, the venom from the snakebites racing through her, racing on a pulse slowly paralyzing itself one beat at a time.

Regina knew she had one last strike. To the left… no, the right. To the right. She slashed and the right arm of her enemy fell, gushing red in its place. Regina dropped her weapon and wrenched off her coat. She let the coat soak up the blood from the wound, her eyes losing focus.

Regina feel forward, onto her coat, her coat sopped with Gorgon blood, and breathed out a last ragged breath.

Brown eyes cleared, opened slowly, blinking. Blinking.

Regina first spied her wrist, resting on the bloody coat, allowing the wound of the Gorgon to be touched by the magic blood from the very same beast.

Regina scrambled to her feet, grabbing the coat with not a glance to the dead creature that covered the better part of the roof's surface before her. Regina ran to her son and fell beside his cold, stone body. She held a corner of the coat over him, squeezed, and a single drop fell onto what had been Henry's young skin. In an instant, color returned. Henry returned. He looked buffeted, confused, but the look on Regina's face told him what he need to know, thought he remembered. He grabbed for his mother and wrapped his arms about her. He never wanted to let go.

"Momma," Henry cried out and Regina felt her chest constrict hearing him use the name he hadn't called her for so very long.

"Shhh…" She whispered fervently, wanting him to calm, wanting to stay in his embrace, but knowing she had one thing more to do. "It's okay, honey. It's okay." Pulling him from her with the hope he would understand, Regina continued, "Emma needs us, Henry. Come with me."

She stood and held her hand to him. He took it without hesitation and the warmth of his small hand in hers filled Regina with such emotion she thought she might crumble right there, but she soldiered on, pulling him with her gently, to the back of the library, to the fire escape.

Heaving the ladder down, it clanged onto the street and Regina descended quickly, coat in one hand, Henry in the other. They raced to the front of the building where a broken Emma lay, surrounded by a huge pool of red and a few townspeople who'd gathered in the moments since the commotion atop the library had ended. Regina walked Henry to Ruby, who was standing on the side, looking horrified, terrified, like everyone else.

"Take care of him," Regina husked to Ruby, their eyes meeting in a silent plea. Ruby folded Henry into her body, keeping him from seeing all the blood in view.

Regina walked to Emma with quick, sure steps, belying the terror she felt at seeing the rip in Emma's chest, the shredded hands. The death.

Regina felt the tears claim her face, felt her heart gripped with fear and grief, but she held the coat aloft. She squeezed,

but the blood wasn't forthcoming.

Not as it had with Henry. These last seconds, it had been seeping, soaking, deep into the fibers of the coat, saturating, disappearing.

Regina moved from spot to spot on the coat where she'd sopped up the blood. Squeezed. Nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

Until finally. There. It hung at the tip of a single fiber, it quivered and threatened to climb back into the material,

the one salvageable drop of Gorgon blood fell slowly down.

Down.

Down.

And landed on Emma's chest.

The wounds closed. Healed. Her chest heaved. Eyelids opened, and the changeable, beautiful, light and _life_-filled eyes met Regina's—flooded with tears of relief.

Regina helped Emma to her feet, and Henry raced over to them both.

The embrace in the street wasn't expected by anyone watching that day, but it would be remembered by everyone.

The Evil Queen, her love and Savior, and their son.

Family.

**a/n for me, this was a story about need. that space where someone transcends want, and becomes our necessity—like air and water, like sun. it is simply not possible to thank you all sufficiently for the support that i truly needed and that i always got from you. i shall forever be grateful for the kind words, the good wishes, the thoughtful questions, the heartfelt responses, and the excited encouragement. much love and thanks. xo, last. p.s. - an epilogue - should you all need one :) -could be possible. let me know. **


	16. Need - The Epilogue

When the dust of the rubble had finally settled, the sky above Storybrooke had filled with stars.

After the dramatic fall of the Gorgon, the former Mayor of the previously sleepy little village stood before the devastated clock tower, raised her hands and pronounced,

"And with that, our show is over! Happy Festival of Wings, everyone!" The townsfolk, struck dumb only moments before by the fear and terror that had played out on the roof of the library and spilled onto the streets below, stilled in silence a moment… before breaking into mad applause. Collectively, they couldn't help but marvel at the spectacle, certainly the best Festival ever, and wonder aloud how Regina—especially Evil Queen Regina so recently scorned by all—had pulled it off. Only Ruby raised a questioning brow, but after relinquishing Henry to Regina's open embrace, she, too, strode away.

Amidst all the flurry, no one had even batted an eye that the Evil Queen and the Savior, embracing in the street, had apparently taken up with one another—as most had expected it was only ever a matter of time with those two.

And then, nearly the whole of Storybrooke marched, en masse, off to their safe little homes to chitter and rest until the next, exciting Storybrooke day. Dozens of doors shut behind giddy festivalgoers.

Leaving three alone.

Under a bright night now filled with silence.

Emma reached out carefully, touching the soft web of skin between Regina's thumb and finger, drawing the woman 'round to meet her gaze. Emma shook her head.

"How did you do that?" She asked, gobsmacked. "Does NO one else think what happened here was nuts?! I don't… I can't EVEN…"

Henry tugged at Emma's shirt, motioning her down to his side. He cupped his hand at his mouth to whisper in her ear, "Evil Queen."

Emma kept her body bent, there at her son's side, her eyes coming to rest on the sanity of a lone dandelion poking through the asphalt at the base of the Storybrooke stop sign. Emma thought it winked at her.

_Jesus. This place._

"Emma?" Standing and turning at the welcome sound of Regina's rich voice, Emma fell into the dark eyes of the woman she'd saved from mythical creatures and venom, who'd nearly died saving her and Henry moments ago, the woman for whom she'd become animal, and would again. A thousand times, again. "Drink?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, looked around at all the destruction and chaos left in the wake of the last few minutes, including, she was reasonably sure, a dead Gorgon still splayed out on the library roof. She quirked her head at the mess, asking unspoken questions.

Regina just shrugged lightly in response.

Emma thought just one more beat before nodding, and together all three left the scene. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they'd unravel it. If, Emma wondered, any of it would even still be there.

* * *

Emma pulled Henry's door shut behind her.

"_It was so awesome, wasn't it? I still feel like there's stone in my legs, like actual stone, like they'll never bend again, and then mom, and the Gorgon? I mean, I've read all the stories, but there's nothing like __that__, and she made the shield, and… so smart! Why wasn't there ever anything ever about mom saving people?" History's largest yawn distorted Henry's features. _

_Emma furrowed her brow. "Think she's making a run at my job?" She joked, winked. Henry blushed and lay his head down, too exhausted to stay upright a second longer. He giggled softly._

"_Thank you for whatever you did to her," Henry's eyes were shutting. "I like it." _

"_Me, too, Henry. But your mom's doing that on her own." _

"_Be here when I wake up?" He asked with the smallest sound. "We can make pan…"_

_And that was that. Henry had conked out mid-sentence. Staring down at him, his head pressed into his pillow, Emma felt within her a rush of such love for the boy. She ran a hand along his bangs, moving them from his eyes, then stopped, realizing how often she'd seen Regina do that very thing. Her smile lifted and she left the room without another sound._

Regina's body was tucked into the rise of the chaise, glass of cider moving slowly to and from her lips. Emma couldn't recall ever seeing Regina _lean_ against anything. As tired as her son, it would seem. Regina's son. Emma's son.

Their son.

Could this really be? Could it? Could a relationship borne of chaos make it in the stillness? Only one way to find out.

* * *

As Emma entered the room she watched Regina's body react, straighten up, her back rise from the support of the cushion. Emma wanted to step behind Regina, wrap arms about her, kiss her neck, and tell her to relax.

Instead, she went to the sideboard where a glass of cider had been poured and was waiting. Lifting it, she turned to Regina and toasted her with a

"Thanks."

Regina nodded almost imperceptibly.

The stillness. Yes, that it was. So still and quiet, in fact, that Emma's enhanced hearing picked up the sound of Regina nervously tapping, thumb against thumb, behind the crystal glass she held in a rock solid grip.

Emma made a decision, and strode around the coffee table, seating herself directly before Regina, who responded by creating distance, once more pushing her body back into the couch.

"It's okay, Regina. It's over." Emma spoke softly, not pressing for a response, but she held out her hand and marveled when Regina took it up.

Then Regina smiled.

And if the heavens ever open with the express purpose of raining perfection on the earth, then Regina smiling is the result.

Emma was proud of herself for having the foresight to have already sat down.

"It does seem to be, doesn't it?" Regina started to drag her thumb over the back of Emma's hand and the sheer intimacy of that small gesture was wonderfully unsettling. But the fact that Regina almost immediately stopped herself, extracting herself from Emma, resulted in an eruption of sadness in blue-green eyes.

"Need I remind _you_ of the same thing?" Regina asked.

Emma shook her head, vehemently. "No, no. This isn't really about any of that loony tunes business tonight. I mean, that, all of it, was just… Jesus. I'm…" Emma breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. "I'm just really glad you're okay. I don't think I could have handled it if anything had happened to you."

Regina looked strangely at that. Scared. Maybe even for the first time in all the recent madness, Regina actually seemed scared.

Perhaps it was too much, after all, the stillness.

Regina raised her glass to take a substantial swig, but Emma's hand stopped her.

"Miss Swan?" Regina only half-joked, obviously a bit piqued at the interference.

"Hang on." Emma tread on delicate ground, she knew, but looking into the dark copper eyes, she understood it was the journey she craved. "You know what? Let's put these down." She took Regina's glass and placed it, and her own, on the coffee table.

Emma held the cautious gaze as she moved to her knees before Regina, which had the unexpected consequence of making the former Evil Queen exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Listen to me," Emma heard the plea in her own voice. "I don't want there to be any misunderstanding here. No confusion. No excuses." As she spoke, Emma's hands moved with gentle pressure up Regina's legs, up, then down her arms, entangled all ten fingers of two soft hands. She hadn't meant to be so hand-sy, hadn't even meant to touch Regina at all, but she _could_. She could, finally, touch the woman she loved, and that was all she needed to know about that.

Emma met Regina's startled eyes a moment before dropping her gaze and plowing ahead. "What happened at the hospital? You were…"

"Ridiculous," Regina tensed, berated herself, "Shaking like a teenage boy."

"Beautiful." Emma smiled softly, struggling to maintain contact as Regina began to twitch and shift under the sustained attention. "Regina, don't hide from me. Not with cider, or bluster, or anything. Please. Kissing you… it was so far beyond anything I've ever known. And of course, I realize _now_ there was a WHOLE lot riding on that kiss, but I'm gonna believe that it was also so amazing because you let me _in_. And, well, I really want to stay there. Okay?"

Emma could see she was losing her, could feel Regina's hands again retreating from her own. Emma grabbed them back and let the desperation in her heart rattle through her voice.

"No!" And more gently, "Don't go back, now, please. Don't believe those voices in your head that even I can hear, telling you I'm not right for you, or that this can't be, or that it was all some actual fuckin' fairy tale but now we have to really live, in the real world? Because I'm right here, still, and I'm not going anywhere. And you and me and Henry, we can make all this work. I know we can. Yeah?" Emma gave an encouraging nudge and waited, trying just to keep breathing as she watched darkening clouds of decision and consequence pass across Regina's face—a face that showed nothing to those unwilling to see, and everything to those who cared to look.

Emma saw the break, the moment when she had Regina's unspoken agreement, her willingness to try… and the single heartbeat later when she didn't.

* * *

Regina extricated herself from the lounge, scooting herself past Emma, not touching, trying to be cool, nonchalant, and fooling neither of them.

"Emma, I'm… I'm sorry." Regina had to keep her gaze tilted away, had to try and mask her shaking hands, dragging her fingers along the desk, the bookcase, as she moved across the room with muted, brisk steps, each one distancing herself further from whatever Emma's vision of family looked like.

In this moment of finally being offered a future, Regina felt that no part of her was ready to accept it.

Finally, out of space, framed by the doorway, she turned back. "I think what you want from me, what _I _even thought I wanted, is a lovely ideal. Emma." She shook her head. "But I… I'm not the woman you think I am. I know I said… things, but I'm… not." Her eyes burned to close, to weep with Emma gone, not watching, not looking like she'd been struck across the face. "Another time? Can we try and pick this up another time?"

Emma was silent, her brow deeply furrowed. Regina plastered a half-smile at her mouth, forced herself to continue, "I'm very grateful for your… devotion. To Henry. To me." A blush rose on olive skin. "But, I need to just…"

"Not need so much?" Emma asked, "Not _be _needed so much?" Emma's lip set in a flat line and she shook her head. "Too late."

As Regina stood rooted, Emma came to her with more swagger than Regina ever remembered—which was saying something. She stopped before Regina, feet planted, legs spread, eyes wide and insistent, locking their gazes.

"This is scary." Emma nodded. "I get it. I also get that there is no, 'picking this up later.' There is only me walking out your door, and us cobbling out some fucking parenting agreement over the next couple weeks while you hate yourself and blame yourself for the state of everything and everyone and feeling like the only thing you'll ever deserve is another slice of shit pie because that's what been shoved down your throat your whole, damned life." Emma grasped Regina's shoulders in her hands, but with such care that Regina only yearned for more of the same. "I'm not going to beg, Regina. You have to want this as much as me, and be willing to put aside enough of your insecurities or whatever else wants to stop you and to want to start building something else. With me." Regina was grateful for the wall behind her as Emma leaned in, sweet breath dusting red lips. "Come on. Whaddya say?" A cocky grin played at Emma's mouth, "You know we'd be fucking fantastic together."

Regina couldn't stop her answering smile, and yet, as her heart flayed about inside her chest, willing, begging her to make a different choice, she shook her head.

No.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, and her tears could hold out no longer.

And Emma's expression fell.

* * *

Emma took a hard, long step back.

She tugged the sides of her jacket, pulling her very being up, up from the metaphorical floor Regina had just kicked her to. She wanted to lie down and bleed until she stopped.

_What the hell? _

"Me, too." She managed to grind out, before she moved off. Her long legs took her quickly to the foyer, through the pristine space where the monster first appeared, nearly tore Regina to bits, where a spell turned Emma into a goddamn lion.

And it was only that twinge of nostalgia that slowed her down enough, that made it possible for Regina to catch up, and she felt something pull at her hand, turn her around, and fill Emma's horizon with love.

Regina's hand traveled to the back of Emma's neck, pulling her in. Regina's voice was raspy and warm, full of breath and need.

"I'm sorry. I'm going to say that in advance. Because I'm going to disappoint you." Regina's eyes moved to Emma's lips. A dark eyebrow rose, a second hand landed at Emma's waist, and then Regina was kissing her. Trembling again with fear, and kissing her anyway.

And Emma began to melt.

Regina's mouth was everywhere, hot, demanding, relentless, gentle, teasing.

Emma felt herself opening, growing wet, soaked, and she was stuttering and stumbling.

Until the solid ground below them seemed to shudder, but it was

Regina's heart, beneath Emma's hand, thundering, through skin so achingly soft that Emma's breath hitched and sobbed.

Round and peaked and pushing for more, Emma bent and cupped and pulled a perfect breast into her mouth with reverence, and the whole of each body surrounding the other vibrated with tremulous sighs

And the two of them enfolded together and staggered up stairs and through doors and under sheets that smelled of Regina,

then longing

And Emma could resist nothing, _would_ resist nothing, and her legs shook with need, flung wide as Regina entered her for the first time, and she lay shimmering with liquid, heaving, gasping, flushed.

And Regina understood and gave herself equally, gratefully, happily

And Emma parted her, dipped her nose, drew a tongue across thrumming nerves, coated her lips and tongue, savoring and tasting and

Shared her awe in a kiss that brought upon them a rush of bliss, dismantling both in sensation. Forever joining them together.

And the fervid became languid, and drowsy,

and still.

And Emma, finally, was content.

And Regina, finally, was saved.

* * *

Emma awoke to music.

Delicate fingers were traveling over piano keys. Something classical and wonderful that Emma recognized but couldn't identify. She thought more about those fingers. Those lips. Those eyes. That pounding heart. Her own eyes closed. She sighed.

Dressed and as presentable as possible, Emma emerged from Regina's bedroom and started down the hall. Henry appeared in his door, eyes wide, rubbing out the sleep.

"Is that mom?" He asked.

"Yep."

"Wow." Henry smiled.

"Yep." Emma smiled.

Hand-in-hand, to an impeccably rendered _Für Elise_, they stepped downstairs to start breakfast.


End file.
